


Dual

by lamothla



Category: The Legend of Zelda: Breath of the Wild, The Legend of Zelda: Skyward Sword
Genre: Gen, Ghirahim is Good, Mild Blood, Mild Gore, Post-Breath of the Wild, Selectively Mute Link (Legend of Zelda), fi has a human form, fi is not the spirit of the modern master sword, just kind of mean
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2020-11-26
Updated: 2021-02-15
Packaged: 2021-03-10 00:42:20
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 18
Words: 57,920
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/27725003
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/lamothla/pseuds/lamothla
Summary: After the defeat of Calamity Ganon, Link is sent by Zelda to eliminate what monsters remain throughout Hyrule, a task that he gleefully accepts, so long as he can go without breaking any weapons. When Link finds a secret weapon cartel in Gerudo Town, he doesn't expect to spend all of his money on a pair of uniquely branded swords, nor does he expect the swords to come to life at his defense. Two sword spirits now follow him around Hyrule, fighting the remaining monsters that plague the countryside. Somewhere deep down, they seem very familiar to Link, and throughout his journey, he gets to learn more and more about his new companions.
Comments: 28
Kudos: 154





	1. Gerudo Town

**Author's Note:**

> Hello. I haven't written fanfiction in a loooong time, and this is the first time I've ever written anything for Legend of Zelda. On my Tumblr, I thought up a sword spirit AU where both Ghirahim and Fi follow Link around, and I decided to put it into writing. Updates might be slow because I have a full-time job, and I'm still thinking up the story along the way. I hope to get the second chapter up soon, though.

Despite his accomplishments and his standing with Chief Riju, Link still dons the silken Vai clothing to enter Gerudo Town. 

He’s certain by now that at least a few of the Gerudo know his identity, and if they do, he’s grateful that nobody approaches him or alerts the guards. He’s here for a much-needed break from his excursion through the desert, in a place where he’s welcomed, provided he dresses appropriately. Without the Sheikah slate, Link’s journey across Hyrule has been taxing. He’d given it up to Zelda for the sake of rebuilding Castle Town from the ground up, thus forcing him to do his task on horseback. But once he reached the edge of the canyon, he had no choice but to board his horse at a stable and trek across the desert on foot. 

It’s been two days since he left his horse behind, and since then he’s slaughtered about a dozen of the remaining monsters he’s come across. Simply a drop in the bucket, but it doesn’t bother him. When Zelda approached him with the task of eliminating the monsters around Hyrule, he almost couldn’t contain his excitement. Since the defeat of Calamity Ganon, Link had been dutifully laboring away with a team of Shiekah and Hylians to help rebuild villages, with Zelda’s help and guidance of course. Guardians were all now deactivated, no longer posing a problem other than taking up space. Monsters, however, were still gathered in tribes. The most common complaint that the princess received was the threat of monsters on towns and travelers. Link didn’t mind the work he was putting into construction, but he certainly missed the world outside of Castle Town. That’s why he accepted Zelda’s task, no questions asked. 

Unfortunately, he’d had to leave the Sheikah slate in Zelda’s hands. With Purah’s modifications, it had become a handy tool for rapid construction, and was therefor more useful to Zelda than Link. He wasn’t concerned at first. Fast traveling was definitely a luxury, but he couldn’t pass up an opportunity to hoof it through Hyrule and see all of the sights that he couldn’t enjoy before. For the first few months of his travel, it was no problem, since he had a horse. But now? Now he’s just grateful for Gerudo Town. After walking across the blistering desert for two days, he rightfully deserves a place to rest and recharge.

Link is also here on business, however, having broken his broadsword after fighting a lizalfos. He’d had to use his rapidly diminishing supply of arrows on the remaining cluster of lizalfos, and now he was almost completely out. He knew of a vendor that sold arrows—that was easy to find. But a new sword was going to be hard to come by. A problem for tomorrow, he supposes. Now he needed to sleep.

Fishing a red rupee from his satchel, Link requests a bed for the night at the local inn. With the sun dropping below the horizon, and the temperature going with it, Link cozies up in bed, hoping that no other patron questions why he doesn’t take off his veil.  
~  
When Link wakes up, it’s pitch-black outside. The sound of clanking bottles and harsh whispers rouse him from his sleep. 

Groggily, he sits up in bed, ears twitching when the whispers start up again. He guesses it’s probably a drunk villager or traveler. Actually he’s certain, given that he walked past a bar to get here. And under normal circumstances, Link would dismiss it, seeing as it’s not a threat, and try to find sleep. But he’s gotten used to sleeping a few hours at a time, and now he’s wide awake due to the disturbance. 

Link finds that Gerudo Town at night isn’t as chilly as the unforgiving desert. Likely due to the walls surrounding them, blocking the wind. Still, he wishes he could wear some other garb, but he can’t risk getting thrown out into the desert at this time of night. Now wide awake, Link rubs his arms to retain some heat, and ventures out to the plaza. Very few people are awake out here. Link sees the late night cooking class across the plaza is letting out. A Gerudo is talking to a Rito traveler along the wall. And two Gerudo are venturing quickly towards the south side of town, liquor bottles in hands. Link’s ears twitch when he hears the whispers again, coming directly from the two Gerudo Vai.

Well, mystery solved, he supposes. It wasn’t much of a mystery, honestly. But he is curious as to where they’re going, why they’re being so secretive. It wouldn’t hurt to indulge his curiosity. They were the ones who woke him up, after all.

Trying not to look so obviously like he’s following them, Link waits a few moments against the wall before meandering across the plaza towards the south side of town. Torches burn upon the edges of the walls, illuminating his path. Once he reaches his destination, he peeks around the corner, eyeing the two Gerudo. Both Vai are crowded together, looking around to make sure they weren’t followed. Luckily for Link, he’s somewhat hidden in the shadows. He should turn back. This is creepy. Following two drunk people in the dead of night is absolutely creepy.

Just when he’s debating about turning back, he hears knocking against a wooden door. Hands against the wall, Link leans slightly over the corner, just enough for one eye to see the door opening, allowing the Gerudo in before shutting rapidly. Link blows off a breath of relief for having not been noticed, and steps out into the torchlit alley. 

He’s seen that door before. The first time he was in Gerudo Town, he’d overheard a few bar patrons talk about something called the Gerudo Secret Club. This is where he’d bought the Voe armor he’d worn to fight the desert-dwelling Molduga. Link wonders, what would two Vai want from a place that sells Voe armor? More importantly, what would two drunk Vai need with Voe armor? Now his interest is definitely piqued. But it’d be rather suspicious to enter the building so soon after the two Vai. He tends to keep contact with people in this town down to a minimum, as to not give away his identity. They’re sure to wonder what a Hylian Vai would want in a place that sells Voe armor.

He’ll have to wait. Because he’s curious and because he has the time, he’ll settle down in the cast shadow of the alley and wait. Link almost dozes off by the time the door opens again.

He sits patiently, listening to the sound of approaching footsteps behind him. Dropping his head towards his lap, he pretends to sleep, hoping that the Gerudo don’t notice him against the wall. He only lifts his head when they walk past him, completely ignoring him in favor of conversing with one another. Link’s breath hitches when he sees one of the Gerudo concealing a knife in her belt.

This place sells knives now? Link thought they only sold armor. Link stands up briskly, slipping out of the shadows and into the alleyway, facing the direction of the wooden door. If they sell knives, then maybe they sell other weapons? Like swords? _Unbreakable_ swords? Link has never bought a weapon before, having always picked them off of dead monsters. But he can’t risk going back out into the desert without one. If this place sells knives, then there’s a chance that they sell decent swords.

Link knocks enthusiastically on the door, hardly containing his excitement for the possibility of finding a reliable weapon. The door creeks open ever so slightly, allowing the distant torch to cast light on a portion of the Vai’s face. Her gaze travels downwards, locking onto widened blue eyes.

“Password?” she asks, accent thick.

“GSC diamond,” Link’s rarely-used voice is uncharacteristically loud tonight. The Vai shakes her head.

“That was the old password,” she says, and Link nearly shatters. That’s the only password he knew. Now what? His mouth opens slightly, beginning a plead, but the Vai interrupts, “wait, I know you. You’re the little Voe that stopped Naboris,” she says with a smirk.

Link’s cheeks redden. Of course she knows he’s male. She remembers him, his accomplishments, and that she sold him Voe armor. “I—”

“Link, is it? Please come in,” she opens the door wide and steps aside. Link stands there for a moment, surprised, before shaking it off and shuffling into the darkened building. It takes a moment for his eyes to adjust to the light of the luminous stones along the wall, but when he does, he sees exactly what he hoped to see. “What can I do for you, little Voe?” she asks from behind him, nearly startling him.

Link doesn’t say anything at first, only staring at the table of weapons laid out in front of him. The Gerudo meanders to the other side of the table, smirk still present on her face as Link takes it all in. He approaches the table, eyeing the various knives and swords adorning every inch, as well as some spears that were leaning against the wall behind the Vai. 

“As you can see, I’ve gotten into the business of weaponry. It’s a business that I must keep a secret, since the town guards are the only ones allowed to wield weapons. I trust that you can keep this your secret as well, little _Voe_?” she speaks up when Link says nothing. His eyes shift from the table towards her as he perceives the threat. He nods quickly, and the Vai’s smirk shifts into a welcoming smile. “Very well. How may I help you tonight?”

Link is overwhelmed. A lot of these items are Gerudo weapons, he recognizes. Scimitars and spears, jewel-encrusted shields. They’re breathtaking, but they’re not the only weapons laid out on the table. Link sees a few broadswords, similar to the ones he’s taken from monsters, as well as a few royal guard longswords and halberds. How did she get her hands on these weapons? She must be involved in some sort of trade agreement. Link’s never seen some of these swords before, never wielded them. He wonders how durable they are.

“Unbreakable,” Link clears his throat, glancing along the table once more before giving the Vai his attention. “Do you have any unbreakable weapons? I, uh, tend to break them,” he says softly.

She chuckles, “I can’t imagine someone as small as you breaking a sword,” she insults, and Link huffs. He’s heard it all before, and he has quite a few nicknames relating to his stature, thanks to the Gorons. But that stung a bit. He may be small, but he’s rather fit for his size. “These longswords are pretty durable, but they’re a little heavy, even for me,” she says as she reaches for a longsword, picking it up and offering the hilt to Link.

Once she lets go, Link almost drops the longsword due the weight. It takes a moment of panic and locking his muscles to hold the sword steady. Okay, so it’s a little heavy. But he’s certain this could do some serious damage. A smile creeps its way onto Link’s face. Yes, this’ll do. If only he could go somewhere to wield it as a test, but he’s certain it’ll do what he needs it to do. “How much?”

“A thousand rupees,” she answers, and Link smiles again. He can definitely afford it. Zelda had sent him out with a decent sum of rupees, knowing that he’ll need to buy food and lodging from time to time. She doesn’t have to know he’s spending it on a weapon.

“I’ll take—” he stops himself as he looks back towards her, or rather, beyond her to the wall of spears. He hadn’t noticed anything on the floor before, but now from this angle, he could see two absolutely gorgeous broadswords sitting amongst the spears. 

In the dim light, Link can only make out that the blades are dark in color, possibly even black. Each sword has a diamond settled at the base of the blade, one red and one blue. The hilts of the swords are wrapped in a pristine white leather, contrasting nicely against the dark blades. The Vai’s eyes follow Link’s gaze, settling onto the pair of swords. She shakes her head. “You can’t afford those, little Voe.”

Link swallows. “How much?” He has to know. He’s never seen such beautiful weapons in his travels. And they’re the perfect size.

“You can’t afford them,” she repeats. Link’s eyes dart from the swords towards her. They stare at each other for a moment, and the Vai sighs and relents. “Ten thousand.”

If the lizalfos in the desert don’t kill him, then Zelda will, because he absolutely can afford them. Zelda didn’t send him across Hyrule with some pocket change. She found whatever she could in the dilapidated castle and gave it all to Link for his journey. He’s been carrying around more than ten thousand rupees for months, having not even put a dent into the amount with how often he camps outside and forages for food. Oh Zelda _will_ kill him. Because he has to have these swords.

“I’ll take them,” Link unloops the satchel from his belt, setting it in its entirety on the table. The Gerudo’s eyes widen, gaze traveling back and forth from the satchel to Link.

“You can’t be serious,” she laughs, opening up the bag to peek at the pile of rupees. When she looks up at Link, he only stares at her, waiting. She laughs again. “Little Voe, you are something else. Come here and I’ll wrap them up for you,” she waves him over to the adjacent counter as she goes to collect the swords.  
~  
Link simply can’t wait for day break to get his hands on the swords. Hugging the bundle of swords to his chest, Link makes his way to the main entrance of Gerudo Town. The guards pay no mind to him, standing still and stoic at their posts as he exits. The cold air bites him the further away he gets from town, and he has to stop to fetch a warm doublet from his bag before venturing further. He’d only brought a few articles of clothing to the desert with him, having left some of his belongings at the stable with his horse. 

Link unwraps the swords from their cloth, letting it fall into the sand as he places the hilts of the swords in each hand. They’re weighted perfectly. He’s fought with broadswords before, but none like these. How they ended up smuggled into Gerudo Town, Link doesn’t know, nor does he care. They’re stunning. He’s never fought with dual swords before, but he supposes it can’t be too difficult. Alternatively, he could fight with one sword and use the other one as a back-up should the first sword break on him. Oh. He hadn’t even thought about that.

What if he breaks these swords? He spent _ten thousand_ rupees on them. What was he thinking? He was so captivated by them that he just willingly gave away all of his money for weapons that could possibly break on him. He can practically hear Zelda yelling at him. No, not yelling. Talking to him sternly in a low, disappointed voice. Like he’s a child. That’ll sting more than any words yelled at him. He made a mistake.

He has to return them. He has to get dressed back into his Vai clothing and smuggle these swords back into Gerudo Town and get his rupees back. _If_ the salesperson will take them back. Oh he made a huge mistake. Where did the wrap go?

Link looks around frantically, the wrap was no where in sight. The wind must’ve carried it away, and in this darkness, there’s no hope that Link will find it.

In his near panicked-state, he doesn’t hear the croaks of the lizalfos rising from the sand not even five feet away from him. He doesn’t register the danger he’s in until lightning crackles from the horn of the monster. 

Link can’t react quick enough, so he braces for a shock. Blinding light forces him to look away. The swords feel warm in his hands, almost as if they’re vibrating. A sudden force knocks Link to the ground, surely he’s been hit by the monster’s tongue. But he doesn’t feel the usual sting that comes with such a hit.

Link hears an unfamiliar chime, followed by the sound of metal slicing through flesh. A scream erupts from the creature before him, but Link can’t see it, can’t see anything. His eyes had not yet adjusted to the flash of light, and all he sees are spots.

“Master.”

A feminine voice speaks in his direction. Link rubs his eyes. He can barely make out two figures in front of him. Two… Hylians…? They certainly aren’t lizalfos.

“Master,” the voice repeats, “are you alright?”

Link blinks a few times, his vision slowly returning. His breath hitches suddenly when the speaker approaches him— _floating_ towards him. He drops his swords and scoots backwards in the sand, nearly falling flat on his back.

“Oh look, he’s petrified,” a second, deep voice mocks from behind the floating Hylian. “Get up. You’re fine. And you’re welcome. If not for us, you’d certainly have perished.”

Link’s not fine and he’s not grateful. With adrenaline powering him, Link manages to get on his feet and turn on his heel, booking it as fast as he can back towards Gerudo Town.


	2. Reintroduction

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Link is introduced, or rather, "reintroduced" to his strange companions.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Well I finished the second chapter quicker than I thought. I'm trying to make them a little bit longer. Hoping to really pack some backstory into the next chapter. Enjoy!

Running in sand is surprisingly easy when fueled by pure fear. That, and the flats that he’s forced to wear in Gerudo Town tread nicely along the sand. 

Link doesn’t think as he bounds towards town again, using every ounce of strength to not get stuck in the endless grains. He doesn’t know what he just saw and he doesn’t know if he’s being followed. All he knows is that a Hylian was _floating_ before him. And if he’s learned anything about creatures that float, like Wizzrobes or Ganon Blights, they’re probably monsters. 

But most monsters don’t speak. Certainly they don’t call him _Master_. 

Still, not normal. And Link’s not equipped to fight it. Definitely not now, after he’d abandoned his new swords in the desert. That’s why he runs back to the safety of Gerudo Town. Runs back to the guards that surely will help him. Runs directly into a wall of nearly translucent diamonds.

Link hits the wall hard enough to throw him backwards onto his rear. His nose stings, and he can feel warm blood trickling down towards his upper lip. He groans, wiping his nose, smearing blood along his forearm. When he looks up, the wall of orange-tinted diamonds quickly disappear one-by-one, and is suddenly replaced by the tall Hylian, who appears out of thin air with nothing but the sound of a chime. Link flinches, stunned.

“My apologies, Master, but you were acting out so uncharacteristically that I simply had to stop this pitiful retreat,” white-painted lips grin, showing off sharp, glistening canines. _Master_. Why were they calling him that? Link stares, slack-jawed, allowing blood to dribble nearly into his mouth as the Hylian— _Hylian?_ —crosses his arms over his chest, as though patiently waiting an explanation.

With dawn approaching, Link can start to make out the colors that adorn the mysterious Hylian’s bizarre clothing. White, skin-tight fabric stretches across his lean, yet muscular form, mostly hidden beneath a red cloak that drapes his torso and overlaps itself, forming a hood that covers snow-white hair that veils over the left side of his face. White hair. Sheikah? If he were Sheikah, it’d explain the magic wall that he’d collided with. But this stranger doesn’t look like any Sheikah Link has ever met. In fact, he’s never met anyone with ghostly gray skin. The diamond tattoo on his left cheek is strange and unlike any Sheikah tattoo he’s ever seen, ruling out that he’s even remotely close to being Sheikah at all. What is he then?

“I know, I’m quite captivating. But it’s rather rude to stare,” he catches Link’s attention again, forcing him to lock onto dark grey eyes, eyes that are adorned by purple… makeup? Tattoos? Link had no way of knowing. Nor did it seem like a priority, seeing as this strange Hylian is staring at him like he’s about to become a meal. “Oh stop. We’re not here to harm you. Though the bloody nose was a mishap.” 

Link blinks. Can he read his mind? He wipes his nose again, smearing more blood along his upper lip.

“Master, you’re hurt.”

Link nearly jumps out of his skin when the floating Hylian cascades over him briskly, joining sides with her taller partner. Her appearance almost makes the male blend in with other Hylians. Never mind the fact that she’s levitating a foot off the ground. She shares the same gray, actually almost _lilac_ skin as the former, wearing bright blue and purple garb that form to her small physique. The sleeves of her dress extend further beyond that of any normal arm-span, and almost float limply beside her, as though she doesn’t have arms to support the sleeves. Her hair is dark, a gray-blue that Link has never seen before. Both of them wear matching choker necklaces, his with a red diamond and hers with blue.

Just likes the diamonds on the swords.

“Was this all necessary?” she grimaces, gesturing towards Link’s bloody face.

“He was fleeing like a frightened animal. How else was I to stop him?” he answers, waving her off with a white-gloved hand.

“There was a fifty-five percent chance that a simple explanation would have prevented his departure,” she scowls, purple eyes darting towards her partner, who scoffs.

“And a forty-five percent chance that this all was, in fact, necessary,” his grin returns as he then eyes Link. “Master, my apologies once more. But wouldn’t you consider it quite rude to abandon your savior? Surely you could understand that praise is in order.” 

He wanted Link to _thank_ him? Just who does he think he is? First he scares the living hell out of Link and then gives him a bloody nose! Well… first, he did save Link from a lizalfos attack. It was more than fair that he was looking for gratitude. But just how did the two of them fight off that lizalfos? Link doesn’t see any weapons on either of them.

“I—”

“Oh, he speaks!”

Whatever Link was about to say, he suddenly loses. Too stunned by the outburst to remember what he was going to ask the pair, Link clamps his mouth shut, and the taller _Hylian_ , Link is still unsure, nearly throws an arm to his forehead in what has to be the most dramatic display of despair he’s ever seen.

“Come now Master, say something!” the taller one encourages. “Or rather, if you prefer…” he cuts himself off, picking back up with his hands, signing _you could communicate like this._ Link reads his hands, surprised yet again. How did he know that Link rarely verbally speaks? And why in the name of Hylia do they keep calling him Master!

The two of them stand—and float—before him patiently, waiting. The sun is starting to peak the horizon. They’re still out in the open, vulnerable to predators. But for some reason, Link doesn’t feel the ominous threat of the unknown that usually plagues him when he’s out on his own. Strangely enough, he feels almost… safe. Protected. Besides the bloody nose, neither of these people have done anything to harm him. They saved him, after all. 

“Who…” Link’s voice seems so tiny, so unsure. “Who are you…?”

A smirk creeps across the taller one’s face, as though he’d been waiting for this moment for centuries. He places one hand behind his back and the other on his chest, bowing. “I’ll indulge you with my full title of _Lord_ Ghirahim, but you, my Master, may simply refer to me as Ghirahim,” he introduces himself, soon gesturing towards his partner, “and this doting mother is Fi.”

Fi doesn’t correct him or insist on adding any title to her name. She bows her head in tandem with Ghirahim. “It’s an honor to serve you after so long, Master,” she says as she raises her head up, making eye contact with Link. She doesn’t smile like Ghirahim, appearing to be the more stoic of the two. But Link feels a little more comfortable around her, despite the lack of emotion. There was something about Ghirahim that struck him as both familiar and… unsettling. Perhaps it was the flagrant personality, or maybe it was the teeth. Hm, definitely the teeth.

Link’s nose might still be bleeding. He hasn’t been really paying attention up until now. He moves to wipe it again, finding that the bleeding has decreased, but hasn’t quite stopped. He takes this moment to sort of assess the position he’s in, the position he’d been _put_ in because of the diamond wall. Still on the ground, sand infiltrating his clothing in rather uncomfortable places, Link finds himself strangely more relaxed now that he knew their names. He drops his shoulders, not nearly as tense as he was a moment ago, but he’s certainly still on edge. He must be hallucinating right now. That would make more sense than anything that has happened in these past few moments. He must be hallucinating from the minimal hours of sleep he got. 

Looking back and forth between the two, Link tries to blink the hallucinations away, because none of this can be real. But they’re not going away. Ghirahim is still smiling at him. And Fi is still hovering, quite literally, over him. “Master,” Ghirahim clears his throat, and Link’s blue eyes dart towards his looming form. He flinches when Ghirahim extends a hand, “may I help you to your feet? Surely you can’t be comfortable with sand in your trousers.”

“Why do you keep calling me that?” Link blurts, refusing the offered hand. Ghirahim pauses, smile disappearing. “Master. Why do you keep calling me your Master?”

Ghirahim glances towards Fi, whose face hasn’t really changed in terms of expression, but somehow appears equally as confused as her counterpart’s. 

“Link, is it? Of course it is. You’re all Link,” Ghirahim remarks, and Link shudders at the sound of his own name. Add _knowing his name_ to the list of bizarre events that have subsequently occurred over the past few minutes. “You’re among the very few who could wield us, thus making you our Master.”

“Wield?”

Ghirahim drops his hand, face pinched in what seems to be frustration. He eyes Fi once again, who is still floating ominously next to him, contributing no words. Licking his lips, Ghirahim takes a moment before kneeling down to Link’s height, startling the blonde Hylian and forcing him to scoot back. “Fear not. I won’t hurt you, Master. I can _not_ hurt you,” he assures, and even crouched down, he still towers over Link, doing nothing to settle his nerves. “You unquestionably recognized us in that shop earlier tonight. You must’ve felt our connection to you, that we belong to you. That’s why you bought us back.”

“Belong?”

Link almost stammers, beyond perplexed as Ghirahim simply nods. “Yes, Master. We’re your swords.”

“ _Swords?_ ”

“Oh for the love of Hylia,” Ghirahim says through gritted teeth, quickly losing his composure. “This incarnation is as dimwitted as the first!”

“Ghirahim,” Fi breaks her silence in order to halt Ghirahim’s rage, lowering herself down to his level. The three of them now sit in a triangle near the sand, crowded close together. Fi casts her glance towards Link, more confused than ever, and gently asks, “you’ve lost your memories, haven’t you?”

Understatement of the century. Link defeated the epitome of evil with no memories and just a hunch that it was what he was supposed to do. Most of what he’s accomplished is because of suggestions though superiors and snapshots of the past that piece together into vague, disconnected memories. It truly is a miracle that he’s come this far, that he’s not dead. That he even remembers _Zelda_. So it’s entirely plausible that he’s forgotten Ghirahim and Fi… right?

Link nods, loosening up his posture in the slightest when Fi recognizes his uncertainty and backs up just a bit. “I’ve been told that I was put to sleep for a hundred years. In order to heal from battle wounds. When I woke up, I couldn’t remember anything,” Link explains quietly, trying to avoid Ghirahim’s piercing glare. Oh how Link wishes he would back off like Fi did. “Sorry. That I don’t remember you.”

Fi smiles. It’s the first time Link has seen any emotion on her face since meeting her. It’s a welcoming smile, nothing like the toothy grin that Ghirahim had been giving him. “Worry not, Master. There was a ninety-seven percent chance that this incarnation of you wouldn’t be able to recall us.”

“There was?” Ghirahim snaps. “Why didn’t you say anything? I’d have approached the subject much differently!”

“There is a one hundred percent chance that you would not have,” Fi refutes, and opens his mouth to argue, but is interrupted by a giggle from Link.

Link doesn’t even realize he’s laughing until they’re both staring at him. His smile vanishes immediately. “Sorry,” he apologizes again, covering his mouth. “Sorry that I, uh… I don’t remember you. And that I ran. So many things happened at once, with the lizalfos, and then you two appearing out of nowhere. I wasn’t ready to handle any of that. So I, uh, ran,” Link stumbles over his words, “you’ll have to remind me of just who you are. _What_ you are. You’re not human, are you…?” he dares to ask, and it’s Ghirahim’s turn to laugh.

Ghirahim’s chuckle is booming, echoing off of the distant dunes of the quiet morning desert. Link’s ears turn downward and his cheeks redden, certain that it wasn’t a stupid question. But Ghirahim’s laugh begs to differ.

Ghirahim wipes a non-existent tear from his eye when he finishes laughing at Link, who at this point is pouting and waiting for it to be over. “Oh Hylia forbid,” Ghirahim waves him off, standing up tall from his crouching position. He offers his hand once more, waiting patiently with a grin as Link glares at him, but reluctantly takes it. Helping him off of the ground, Ghirahim bends forward and dutifully dusts the sand off of Link’s clothing. “Allow us to clean you up, Master. We’ll answer every question you have.”

“We must collect our swords,” Fi interjects, lifting a flowing sleeve and pointing it towards the rising sun. “There’s an eighty percent chance—”

“Enough of that,” Ghirahim interrupts, silencing her. He raises his gloved hand above his head and snaps his fingers, disappearing into thin air. Link almost falls back into the sand at the sight of Ghirahim’s vanishing act. Before any remark could be made, Ghirahim returns in the blink of an eye, as though he had never left in the first place. In each hand he holds the broadswords.

“There is an oasis nearby, hardly populated at this time of the day,” Fi only distracts Link from his astonishment a little, but not much. Ghirahim can _teleport_. It would explain how he stopped Link’s retreat mere moments ago. “I suggest we venture towards the oasis to wash up and restore your energy, Master. Shall Ghirahim teleport us there?”

“Um. _No_ ,” Link answers immediately and Ghirahim huffs.

“Very well,” Ghirahim says, “please allow me to carry our swords, Master. Surely you can understand that we would not appreciate being _dropped_ again.”

Oh yes. They definitely owe Link an explanation. Link can only nod to Ghirahim, who grips the swords firmly, yet carefully. Fi hovers in the direction of the oasis, a place that Link has visited once before. He agrees, it wouldn’t be a bad place to settle while he cleans up his face and listens to what these two definitely-not-Hylians have to say to him. Link has followed his gut before, and he’s definitely landed himself in trouble by doing so. But he has a strange feeling about these two. As much as Ghirahim makes him uncomfortable, he had a point about the shop. There was a connection. Link _had_ to have those swords. And at this point, he’s curious to find out why.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I don't know when the next chapter will be written. If I have time this weekend, I'll definitely work on it. Thanks for reading!


	3. Sword Spirits

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Link learns a few things about his new companions

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I'm on a roll! I'm off this weekend, so I'll try to work on the next chapter soon!

By the time they reached the oasis, the bleeding from Link’s nose had finally stopped. His nose still throbbed from the collision, but at least he was no longer making a huge mess. The short trek through the desert was quiet, Fi leading the way and Ghirahim trailing behind Link, holding both swords. It was a little… _ominous_ knowing that a complete stranger was carrying weapons behind his back. Alarm bells rang in Link’s mind the entire time they walked, telling him that this was a bad idea, that he was being led into a trap. But curiosity overpowered his fear, which was slowly dissipating the more time he spent in their presence.

The oasis was mostly empty. There were very few travelers out at this time of the day, most staying in the inn, or camped out along the edges. Only about three people were gathered around the spring, taking advantage of the desert’s sparce water source. Link bends over the edge of the spring, splashing water onto his face to break up the dried blood. It doesn’t escape his attention that Fi is no longer floating. In fact, the minute they the trio noticed other people in the area, Fi’s heeled shoes touched the ground, and she chose to walk to the water’s edge beside Link.

If this is her attempt at looking inconspicuous, she’s going to have to do a better job, Link thought. Both of them look rather out of place, Fi with her lavender-tinted skin, and Ghirahim in his six-foot-five glory. Although they don’t really seem to be gathering any attention from the other patrons. Perhaps people are too tired to be nosey, or Fi and Ghirahim blend in better than Link thought. _They aren’t human_ , Link reminds himself, holding back a shiver. Then what are they?

Rubbing his face thoroughly, trying to get the last of the dry, crusted blood off of his skin, Link settles onto his knees and looks at his reflection rippling in the water. Past himself, he can see Fi and Ghirahim staring down at him, patiently waiting.

“Why don’t you sit?” Link invites, alarmed when both of them immediately drop down on either side of him, Fi on her knees and Ghirahim on his rear, sitting cross-legged with the swords placed carefully in his lap. Clearly they heard that as a command rather than a suggestion, which leads Link to his first question, “why did you both do that? Sit so quickly, I mean?”

“We serve you, Master. We are at your command,” Ghirahim presses a hand to his chest and bows, a smile on his white lips. 

“So… you’ll do what I ask you to do?” Link asks, incredulous.

“Within reason,” Fi is the one to answer now, holding the sleeves of her dress onto her lap. “Our primary duty is to protect you, Master. Should you request anything that causes harm to befall you, then we simply cannot execute such an order.” 

Link nods. It makes sense, though he considers the bloody nose as harm, a point he’d like to bring up with Ghirahim. Shifting his gaze to his left, he eyes the white-haired swordsman, narrowing his stare. “Then why did you make a barrier for me to run into?”

“Why did you run, o’ bearer of courage?”

Link’s cheeks redden as he feels himself pout, forcing himself to glare at Ghirahim, who only grins back, sharpened teeth fully on display.

“Indulge me, really. You possess the triforce of courage, do you not? That retreat was not very courageous of you.”

“Shut up,” Link grunts, embarrassed.

“As you wish, Master,” Ghirahim says this and nothing else, closing his lips and falling into silence as requested. Link’s pout falls away when he realizes that Ghirahim interpreted that as a command as well. He opens his mouth to undo it, to tell Ghirahim that he’s allowed to speak. He doesn’t like this. He doesn’t like having control over anyone. Not like this. It’s too much power.

Although, he does like that now he doesn’t have to explain why he was so cowardly as to run away from a potential fight. As much as he hates it, Ghirahim did have a point. He is the _courage bearer_ after all. He defeated Calamity Ganon, as well as various elemental forms of the beast. Moblins, hinoxes, guardians, the _Molduga_ ; he’d never entered a battle without a stroke of confidence. So why did he run away from Fi and Ghirahim?

Fi has been nothing but compassionate from the very first moment she’s spoken to him. Despite his initial reaction to her, something deep down in his gut told him that she could be trusted. Ghirahim, on the other hand, gives off a weird… feeling. Link is still uncertain about him, whether it’s okay to let his guard down around him or not. He still thinks it’s the teeth that give off a menacing vibe. Link doesn’t know a lot of trustworthy creatures that have a full set of sharpened, deadly teeth. Well, except for Prince Sidon of the Zora, whose only act of violence towards Link had been hugging him just a little too hard. But Ghirahim isn’t a Zora. He’s a… he’s a…?

“You never told me exactly _what_ you are,” Link shifts the conversation from his cowardly display in order to revisit a previous subject. He’d been promised answers earlier when they were out in the middle of the desert, after all. “If you’re not Hylians, what are you? Sheikah?” Quite a reach, since neither fit the appearance, but it would explain the magic.

Ghirahim does not break his silence, and Link wonders if he needs to be commanded to speak again. Instead, he glances to his right at Fi, who shakes her head. “No Master. Despite the forms we’ve taken on, we are not human at all. We are the spirits that inhabit your dual swords,” she gestures with a sleeve towards her necklace, touching the blue gem. “We are able to aid you in combat, either within the swords, or alongside you with our very own weapons.”

“Sword spirits?” Link reiterates, more curious than stunned by the information.

“That is correct, Master.”

Link has heard of sword spirits before. He remembers reading about them when he left his Sheikah slate to Purah for modifications. She had a vast library within her tech lab, filled to the brim with books of all variety. One particular book that grabbed Link’s attention was a book on spirits. At the time, Link thought it was just a book full of ghost stories, taking about creatures called poes, and silent realms filled with guardian specters. He still believes most of the book was created out fantasy, purely for reader enjoyment. But he does recall a section that talked about spirits that took residence inside weapons.

Sword spirits are bonded to their weapons, unable to travel too far from them. When dormant, spirits can rest within their weapons for years, _millennia_ , even. They are able to exit the weapon, so long as they do not stray away, and can exist in a corporeal form that allows them tangibility, able to be seen, even touched. They can _fight_ , some possessing their own weapons, as Fi has confirmed, and will obey whoever commands them. Controls them. But they can also assist their masters from within their swords, as an extension of the swordsman. They are very powerful assets, and should not fall into the wrong hands. Or so Link has read.

Given the nature of that book, Link dismissed it as fiction. But he’s in no position to deny the reality of the two sword spirits sitting beside him. While overwhelming, this information puts a lot of things into perspective. Link has also read that sword spirits can possess abilities. Such as Fi, who can float, or Ghirahim, who can make a magic barrier. So perhaps the book of ghost stories has a little truth behind it. Link is curious if there was a way to prove that they are what Fi says they are. 

“Can you go into your sword right now?” Link inquires. “You know… so I could see. See that you’re really a sword spirit?”

“Of course I can, Master, if that is your request. However, there is a sixty-two percent chance that such a display may cause unwanted attention. Would you still like me to retreat into my sword?” she asks Link, who looks around the spring at the few patrons. No one has really looked in their direction, but Fi does have a point. He really didn’t want to have to explain an event to someone when he hardly knows anything about it either. 

“I suppose not. I… I guess I believe you,” Link says quietly, trying to brainstorm any other method of proof. Although it might be proof enough that Fi is willing to do it at his command. 

His _command_. Whoa. Link is at the command of not one, but _two_ sword spirits. How in the name of Hylia did he end up in this position? He just needed a new sword to fight monsters, and now he has two powerful, immortal beings at his beck and call. Just add this to the list of weird things that happened to Link since waking up from his hundred-year slumber. Fortunately, it had been Link of all people to get his hands on those swords. If it had been anybody else, anybody with ill intent…

“Wait,” Link stops his own train of thought, looking back up at Fi, “can _anyone_ wield your swords? You uh… you said you knew me. Said something about my… my incarnations?” to that, he looks over at Ghirahim, who says nothing. “You said that you were _my_ swords. So can anyone wield you, or is it only me?”

“We obey only individuals who bear pieces of the triforce,” Fi answers, forcing Link’s gaze from the silent spirit on his left towards her. “You are the courage-bearer, our Master. As you have been in your previous lives.”

“My previous lives?”

“Uhg…” Ghirahim groans, and both Fi and Link look his direction, watching him abruptly bring a hand to his mouth to stifle his disdain. With their eyes on him, however, he relents not even seconds later, “I apologize, Master, but I can no longer hold my tongue! You mean to tell me you know nothing of your cycle of reincarnation? As the bearer of courage?”

Link shakes his head. 

“Oh Hylia. He knows nothing,” Ghirahim says to the sky, as though taking to Hylia herself. Link cocks an eyebrow, more confused by the display of dramatics than the topic itself. Something tells Link this is only a taste of Ghirahim’s personality.

“So…” Link tries to take his attention off of Ghirahim, which isn’t the easiest feat. “If you answer to me because I have the triforce of courage, would you answer to the princess as well?”

“If the wisdom-bearer chooses to wield us, then yes. She is also our Master,” Fi answers, and Link nods, understanding.

_Whoa_. He needs to tell Zelda. He wonders if Zelda knows anything about sword spirits. How much she knows about them, if anything. Zelda is one of the smartest people Link has ever met. She’s had to have read about them in her studies. She always liked to talk about things that she’s read, that she’s learned. He remembers snapshots of memories of their travels together, when he was her knight and they were recruiting the champions. There were many stories that she shared when they weren’t getting down to business, mostly things that she’s retained in her studies that she liked to share with a listening ear. Link didn’t talk to her very much, if at all, a hundred years ago. He hardly talks to her now, choosing to sign rather than speak in the princess’ presence. But now he’s fighting the urge to march back to Hyrule castle and tell her exactly what he’d found.

Zelda has fought with a bow before. She’s quite a precise archer. Link has never seen her use a sword before, though. He could teach her. If that means she can wield Fi and Ghirahim like he can, then he’ll teach her. With the wisdom-bearer and the courage-bearer wielding powerful sword spirits, the two of them can eliminate the monster problem throughout Hyrule once and for all.

Link smiles. This might be the best investment he’s ever made. For the first time since he purchased _his_ swords, he’s excited for an opportunity to wield them. To fight monsters with them. To have these spirits by his side, battling with him. He can’t lose.

“What about the power-bearer?” Link asks, casting his gaze from Fi to Ghirahim. His smile fades when he sees Ghirahim look away, refusing to meet his eyes. Confused, he turns back towards Fi. “Could the bearer of power wield your swords too…?” Now Link is almost afraid to know the answer, seeing how Ghirahim won’t look at him.

Fi sighs through her nose, nodding ever so slightly. “So long as they possess a piece of the triforce, we are at their command.”

Link doesn’t know who the power-bearer is. Calamity Ganon was not _human_ , he couldn’t hold the triforce of power. There were theories that he had once been human, but those were only stories. As far as Link knows, or anyone else for that matter, no one in Hyrule possesses the triforce of power. Perhaps Zelda knew, another thing that he could bring up to her when they meet again. But as for the sword spirits falling into the wrong hands, it seemed rather unlikely. 

Brushing those thoughts from his mind, Link stands up. Given all of this new information, there has been a new change of plans in his journey. Zelda needs to know about his discovery. This can change so many things for them, for Hyrule. He looks down at the two spirits, who are still seated at his feet, waiting for orders.

“I’d… I’d like for you to come with me,” Link invites, a small smile on his lips. “I’d like for the princess to meet you, to know what you can do and how you can help. Is… is that okay?” he asks reaching both hands out towards the spirits.

“We are at your mercy, Master,” Fi responds, taking the offered hand within her sleeve. Link grips it and feels nothing beneath the fabric. Fi stand on her feet, coming to just and inch above Link’s height.

Ghirahim hesitates at first, maneuvering the hilts of the swords from his lap into one hand. Carefully, he grips Link’s hand, allowing the Hylian to help him up. Once standing, he towers over Link, reminding him of just how large and imposing the sword spirt really is. No sooner after he stands, though, does Ghirahim kneel, still holding Link’s hand within his. He bows his head. “Yes, Master. Anything you ask.”

Link doesn’t know why he’s so intimidated by Ghirahim when he’s only been respectful, despite the few verbal outbursts. Ghirahim has shown him nothing but diligence towards his goal of serving his Master. He just has a personality that Link will have to get used to, he supposes. For what it’s worth, he thinks he likes Ghirahim. Link smiles again, looking forward to his journey with his new companions.

“We’ll have to stop at the nearby stable to get my horse. I left him there with some of my stuff,” Link informs when Ghirahim lets go of his hand and stands up again. The sun is starting to warm the desert, and Link is getting a little over-heated in his doublet. He takes a moment to remove the doublet, and as he’s slipping it over his head, he hears a snicker from his left.

“Nice outfit,” Ghirahim remarks, reminding Link that he’s still wearing the Vai clothing, minus the veil. Link’s ears flick downwards, turning red at the tips as Ghirahim continues his toothy grin. Okay, maybe he doesn’t like Ghirahim that much after all.


	4. Chimes

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> We meet Link's favorite horse, and head back to see Zelda

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Sorry this is kind of a filler chapter

It takes most of the day to make it back towards the stable. Both Ghirahim and Fi traveled beside him, Ghirahim carrying the swords and Fi floating gracefully along their path. The trip wasn’t very adventurous, nor were any of them very talkative. Besides the occasional _watch out, Master_ when it came to uneven patches of ground, the spirits for the most part remained quiet. It gave Link a little bit of time to think.

He’s certain that this is a good idea. After finding out the identities of his new companions, and the sheer power he now possesses with them in tow, there’s hardly a doubt in his mind that this could go wrong. _Hardly_. Deep in his gut, something just feels… funny. Perhaps it was their abrupt introduction, the way they blinded Link when exiting their swords in order to save him. Or the way they pursued him in order to get a word in with him. They seemed awfully determined to stop his retreat. But a lot of it makes sense to him, too, after hearing what Fi had to say about their identities and purpose.

Still, Link feels a little uneasy about having them obey his command. He’s never been the one to dish out orders, having been trained as a knight—the princess’ chosen knight at that—he’s always been on the receiving end of instructions. He doesn’t know if he could get used to being in control of two living, breathing individuals. It’s not in his nature. And he’s definitely not used to being called _Master_. He doesn’t know if he could get comfortable with such a title. The two spirits don’t seem bothered by their own servitude. In fact, as far as Link can tell, they seem thrilled to finally be in the presence of one of their Masters. Well, Ghirahim does, anyway. It’s hard to read any emotion on Fi’s face.

Although he’s just met her, Link likes Fi. She’s helpful, resourceful, and polite. Her patience with his ineptitude is definitely appreciated, unlike Ghirahim, who doesn’t seem to like having to explain things to Link that he feels he should already know. Ghirahim has proven that he has a short temper, and Link thinks that’s why he feels unease towards the taller sword spirit. It’s quite literally not Link’s fault that he lost all of his memories, that he can’t recall Ghirahim or Fi… or that he doesn’t know anything about his cycle of reincarnation. The most Link knows is that someone will always bear the triforce of courage, and that someone just happens to be him. How was Link supposed to know that he’s had past lives? Link only recently just fulfilled his destiny after finding out about it through pieces of broken memories. He deserves more credit, honestly. What he did was amazing. Heroic. _Courageous_.

It still begs the question, why did he run away when Ghirahim and Fi first revealed themselves?

Link shakes his head. He can’t think anymore, having been stuck in his head for so long. He just focuses on the sound of the gravel crunching beneath his shoes. They’re almost at the stable, Link can see it in the distance. He’s thankful, looking forward to changing out of this garment and back into his blue champion’s tunic. And he’s definitely looking forward to getting back onto his horse.

“Master,” Fi breaks the long bout of silence. Link watches as she slowly descends, heels soon touching the ground. “I recommend that Ghirahim and I retreat into our swords. The stable is heavily populated and there is a ninety-two percent chance that our appearances will gain unwanted attention.”

It’s then that Link really looks at Fi, taking her in. She wears a blue and purple dress, one that reaches past her knees and is hemmed in gold. The sleeves of her dress are very long, stopping midway down her thighs and ripple in the slight canyon breeze. Link wasn’t certain at first, but after helping her up at the oasis, he’s sure that Fi doesn’t have arms, which is probably why she tries to hide them with such long sleeves. But that’s not the first thing Link notices about her. Her skin is grey, nearly a pale _purple_. In the right light, her dark hair reflects a faded blue. And her eyes, her most intense feature, are a vibrant violet. 

Her counterpart blends in a little bit easier among other Hylians, but not by much. First off, his above-average height makes him noticeable from far off. That, and the white clothing that clings to his lean, muscular form. Gold fabric wraps around his hips and accentuates small features in his outfit, and he wears a red hood that drapes down his torso. White hair is common among the Sheikah and not totally outrageous, but he’s definitely not a Sheikah. Not with that diamond tattoo on his left cheek. 

“Fi is right, Master,” Ghirahim says, breaking Link’s train of thought, “these Hylian travelers may react similarly to you at the sight of our human forms, making things difficult for the three of us. It’s best if we retire.”

“Human forms?” Link asks as though that was the only thing he picked up from what Ghirahim had said. “You mean, you have other forms?” Fi simply nods. Link cocks his head, intrigued. “Can I see?”

“Now is probably not the best time,” Ghirahim huffs, annoyed by the boy’s ignorance. “Our spirit forms are rather… striking. Magnificent, truly. But we will definitely gain the attention that we’re trying to avoid,” he presses fingers to his chest, gloating, and now Link really wants to see their sword spirit forms. These two get more and more fascinating as the day goes on.

But they’re both probably right. Link hardly can talk to strangers, let alone explain _oh don’t mind them, they’re just ancient ghosts that possess my weapons, nothing to see here._ Link’s heard stranger things, but the patrons at the stable probably have not. There’s still people in the outskirts of Hyrule that haven’t heard that Calamity Ganon has been defeated, that have no idea that a teenager with a bad memory and the thought-to-be-dead princess ended the reign of the most evil power of this past century. A lot of people in Hyrule lead simple lives despite it all. Link doesn’t want to be the reason any crazy rumors get started.

So, he nods. “I understand. You’re right,” he says, looking back at the peaceful stable before turning his back to it, facing the spirits. “So, how does this work? I’m curious to see.”

“You hold our swords while we retreat and rest. It’s quite simple,” Ghirahim says, stepping towards Link. The Hylian opens his palms to receive the swords, but instead of handing them over, Ghirahim leans forward, whispering in his ear, “I swear to Hylia if you drop us again—”

“Ghirahim,” Fi warns, catching a quick glare from Ghirahim before he backs away from Link.

“I—I—” Link stammers, heart racing in his chest. After he’d just forgotten how terrifying Ghirahim is… “I won’t! I promise, I won’t.”

A satisfied smirk paints Ghirahim’s lips, whether it’s because he succeeded in driving his point home or scaring Link, he’s not sure. All Link knows is that he better hold on tight. Ghirahim offers the hilts of the swords to Link, the red gem in his left hand and the blue gem in his right. He holds them upright, unsure if there’s a specific way he’s supposed to present them. 

“We can hear and see you from within our swords. At your command, we will come out. But only when it’s safe, or if you are in danger. Remember that it is our duty to protect you, Master,” Fi explains, bowing her head. “I look forward to seeing you soon.”

With that, Fi seems to glow, her body slowly becoming translucent as she starts to dissipate. Almost immediately, she vanishes, and the sword in his right hand feels heavier, almost warm. Ghirahim follows behind her, simply snapping his fingers and disappearing into a cloud of orange and black diamonds. As soon as the chime hits Link’s ears, he feels the weight of the sword in his left hand. Whoa. Well, if that wasn’t proof of enough that they’re sword spirits, Link doesn’t know what is.

Carefully, Link secures the swords in the strap behind his back, criss-crossing them at the blades. Certain that they won’t fall, Link picks back up on his journey to the stable, excited to retrieve a fresh pair of clothes and his horse.  
~  
Patches isn’t the strongest horse, and not nearly the fastest, but he’s the first horse Link had ever caught.

Named after the brown patches of fur adorning his boy, Patches is by far Link’s most favorite horse. He’s kind of cumbersome, and he pauses mid-stride to eat _a lot_ , which Link has to constantly tug on the reigns to get him to stop. But there’s definitely a bond between himself and this horse that can’t be broken. He’s been with Link since the beginning of his journey, when he first woke up. So Link didn’t have a doubt in his mind that this was the horse he was going to take on his pilgrimage through Hyrule. 

There’s about four other horses Link has successfully caught and tamed, one including a white horse that resembled the mount that Zelda had ridden a hundred years ago. For as long as he lives, he’ll never forget the look on her face when he gifted the white horse to her. Link didn’t know what to do when she started crying, though. She truly missed her horse. Link knows that this was no replacement, but she definitely will make room in her heart to love this animal the way she loved her first. 

Patches seemed happy to see Link when he returned to the stable. Or, he was happy to see the apples that Link had saved in his bag for their reunion. Either way, he nuzzled Link when he was finished with his apples, showing affection the only way he knew how. Satisfied and saddled, Link took to the road with his mount after changing into his sky blue champion’s tunic and tan trousers, relieved to finally be able to sit and relax for a majority of his trip. He’d taken care of the monsters on the way here, so as long as he back tracks the way he came, he shouldn’t run into any more on his way back to Hyrule castle.

It’s going to take him a few days to get back to Central Hyrule at this pace, and another half a day to cross the field to get to Castle Town, but Link doesn’t mind. He misses going out on horseback, seeing the sights, and camping in the fields. He definitely misses the temperate weather. He didn’t spend very much time in the Gerudo Desert. He was certain there were monsters that he’d missed, but truthfully he didn’t expect to eliminate them all. The Gerudo warriors are more than capable of defending their town and the outskirts. They don’t need Link to venture deep into the desert and risk getting lost in order to fight a distant tribe of bokoblins. And if they did need him, they know how to reach him.

Link has a new objective weighing on him, quite literally. The swords are nestled securely on his back, overlapping at the blades, their diamonds nearly touching. They don’t feel any different than when Link first held them. Just… warm. He doesn’t know if it’s because of the sun beating down on the onyx blades, or the very fact that the swords are _alive_. But they feel almost nice. Comfortable. Like Link was supposed to have them all along. He simply can’t wait to show Zelda.

To put it bluntly, Zelda is a nerd. If Link had less of a professional relationship with her and more of a playful one, he’d tell that to her face. She’s going to be utterly fascinated by the spirits. She’s going to want to know what they can do, how their magic works, how they exist inside their blades. She’s going to ask all of the same questions that Link asked. Or perhaps she won’t. Perhaps, she knows all about sword spirits already, able to bypass the game of twenty questions. Surely she’ll want to study them, though, and learn everything she can about them. And maybe she’ll be excited about the prospect of having them at her command. Or… not… seeing as she’s the princess, and she’s used to people obeying her word. Truthfully, Link doesn’t know how she’ll react. He just hopes that it’s positively.

Traveling never felt lonely to Link before, especially since he had Patches to keep him company. And now knowing that he had two companions strapped to his back, he’s enjoying his little entourage. He sort of wishes he could talk to them now, but he’s passing too many other travelers on the road. He couldn’t risk causing any kind of alarm. He’s never been one for being the center of attention, never handling it well when he’s praised for completing a quest for a villager or fighting off a monster for a traveler. He doesn’t know how he’d explain the presence of his guests if asked, which is why he decided that they shouldn’t be seen by anybody but Zelda for the time being.

Link sighs. Maybe he is a little lonely after all. “I hope I have the opportunity to talk to you guys again before you meet Zelda,” he voices aloud, as though they’re right next to him. Surely they’ll come out of their swords at some point when it’s safe. Or, if Link really wants them to, he can make them appear. But they’re right. It’s safer in the comfort of their swords.

His ear twitches when he hears a chime from behind him. Looking over his shoulder, he sees nothing. Nobody following him, no travelers, no _monsters_. Just an empty road. Why did one of them make such a noise? Are they sounding an alarm for Link?

“What… what’s wrong?” he asks, craning his neck to catch a glimpse of the swords strapped to his back. He hears a chime again, and still sees nothing on the road.

It takes a moment, but then it dawns on him that the spirits could be communicating with him via chirps and chimes. A small smile graces his lips.

“Are you talking to me?” he asks, and an enthusiastic noise from the swords soon follows. Link’s smile is now a full-blown grin. Maybe this trip won’t be so lonely after all. “Now which one of you is talking? Um… oh! One chirp for Fi, and two for Ghirahim,” Link encourages, listening intently for the swords to answer.

He almost laughs when three chimes follow. So they’re both listening, both answering him back. How exciting! This arrangement gets more and more fascinating by the day. 

“Okay guys, we’re going to be on the road for a while. I hope you don’t mind if we chat for a bit,” Link suggests, waiting on the sound of three chimes to answer. Content and comfortable, Link pats his horse’s neck a few times before giving him a little kick, encouraging him to gallop. Reluctantly, Patches breaks into a quicker pace, coasting down the dirt-path road as Link thinks of what he wants to say to the spirits. “I don’t know how much of Hyrule you’ve seen already, but I think you’ll love the castle when you see it…” he begins his ramble as they make way towards Central Hyrule.


	5. Regulations

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> It's dinner time for Link, but first he has to learn a few rules from Ghirahim, whether he wants to or not.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> There will be gore and depictions of animal death in this chapter.

It doesn’t strike Link that he forgot to stock up on arrows in Gerudo Town until he’s eyeing a young doe, hidden partially amongst the trees.

He didn’t eat much today; just a few mushrooms and an apple that he had leftover. At this point he’s _starving_ , having not eaten a substantial meal in a while. And he couldn’t buy anything at the stable from one of the travelers after he had spent all of his money on the swords. He’s on his own when it comes to food. 

With the sun starting to set, it was time to stop somewhere and build a campsite. He had planned to forage for more plants to eat, but that was when he spotted the deer grazing off to the side of the road, unbothered by him and his horse. His stomach growls at the prospect of eating a decent meal. Deer meat would last him his entire trip back home, and then some. But he only had two arrows left, and he didn’t want to waste them on game in case a monster came along.

There was no way he was going to get close enough to it to attack with a sword, either. He was going to have to use an arrow and hope for the best.

Sighing, Link reaches into his quiver, then subsequently for his bow, and notches the arrow securely. He’s got two chances at success. Or possibly one, rather, since the first arrow will likely spook the animal should he miss. Taking aim, he eyes the deer, making sure he has a clear shot of her before he releases the arrow, sending it gliding through the air and directly into the animal’s chest. 

_Yes!_ Link celebrates in silence when he sees the doe fall. With one arrow to spare, Link returns his bow back to its rightful place and tugs Patches’ reigns, leading him off the trail and towards the thicket of bushes and trees. Link dismounts and ties Patches’ reigns to one of the trees, deciding that this is where they’re going to camp for the night, primarily so he doesn’t have to drag a deer carcass anywhere. Pulling out flint from one of Patches’ saddlebags, Link goes over the mental checklist of what he has to do to prepare his meal. That’s when he hears panting from behind him. 

Link turns on his heel, hand on one of his swords, ready to fight. But nobody’s there. Link pauses, looking around frantically for the source of the noise. After a brief moment, his eyes fall on the body of the deer, laterally recumbent and laboring to breathe. Oh. It’s… still alive.

He hates when he can’t kill his prey in one shot, absolutely _hates_ it. Link likes to think he’s a friend of most animals, despite also eating them. It’s not like he wants them to suffer when he kills them, though. Now he has to follow through and finish the deer off. At this point, for its own good. He really hates this part.

“I’m so sorry,” Link mumbles to the panting deer, reaching behind his back and grabbing ahold of just one sword, he doesn’t pay attention to whom. With a heavy sigh, Link plunges the sword in between the ribs, deep into the chest of the deer. She groans for a moment, and then there’s silence, her chest no longer rising and falling. Link leaves the sword in her chest for a few seconds after, wanting to be certain, before extracting the sword and setting it down on the ground behind him.

Link kneels down beside the animal, stroking his hand along her hip. She’s not a big deer, not very muscular either. But she should yield enough meat for him for the remainder of his journey, provided he has enough rock salt to keep it preserved long enough. He knows there’s another stable on the way back. Perhaps if he makes some jerky, he could trade someone for more rock salt, or even some different food or ingredients. 

Distracted by the logistics of his future meals, Link doesn’t hear the chime from behind him. Nor does he notice the figure towering over him until he feels a tap on his shoulder. Yelping, Link twists around, hand drawing his other sword swiftly. He nearly falls backwards on the deer as he holds his sword in defense against… Ghirahim…?

“The first time in centuries that you wield me and it’s to murder an animal. Quite honestly I’m appalled and offended,” Ghirahim says as he holds his own sword, examining the bloodstained blade. Link is the one panting now, taking deep, heaving breaths as he processes his fright, quickly letting it turn into rage.

“What are you _doing_?” Link asks through gritted teeth. “You scared me half to death!” he growls, sword still pointed at Ghirahim’s chest. The spirit shakes his head, grabbing the blade with two fingers and affectively yanking it out of Link’s grip.

“Oh please, you couldn’t possibly hurt me if you tried,” he says with a lopsided grin as Link stares back and forth from his empty hands to Fi’s blade, held tightly between Ghirahim’s fingers. 

“Why are you out of your sword?” he then asks, lowering his hands to the ground when he realizes he’s not going to get either of the swords back. Ghirahim holds his own blade out for Link to see, showing him the drying blood tarnishing the onyx finish.

“I was curious to see if you really intended to leave me so filthy, and set me on the ground no less! Have you no respect?” he asks, grin disappearing as he glares down at Link, who really wishes he wasn’t sitting at the feet of an immortal spirit brandishing two enchanted weapons. “If I didn’t know any better, I’d say you had plans to use my blade to _skin_ your prey. Am I correct?”

“Wait, you’re mad because I _used_ you?” Link inquires, a little unsettled by the direct eye contact that he’s receiving from Ghirahim. He kind of wished that Fi were here to break up the intensity. “You’re… you’re a sword! So what if I use you to skin this deer? That’s what blades are for!”

“I am no carving knife, _boy_ ,” Ghirahim hisses, leaning forward and getting in Link’s space. Link fights the urge to back up, trying his damnedest to stand his ground. He couldn’t deny that Ghirahim scares the living hell out of him, though. “Now I didn’t very much mind that you used me to kill your prey; THAT I can excuse, for it’s been far too long since I’ve basked in the bloodshed that I deserve. But hear me well when I warn you that you will not disrespect my blade. You will not use me recreationally, nor will you use me for any mundane task that can be completed by a simple dagger. And you _certainly_ will not use me to skin that _animal_. I simply cannot fathom the absolute contempt for my purpose. Do you understand me, sky child? Do you understand that this is merely a warning?”

“…s-sky child…?” Link stammers, hung up more on the unusual name rather than the threat. Ghirahim seethes. 

“Have you been listening to me or have I been talking to myself?!” He points his bloodied blade directly at Link’s throat. 

“ _Fi!_ ”

The flash of blinding light from this morning returns as Fi exits her sword, forcing Link to look away despite the edge of the blade pointed to his jugular. He winces, bracing for the inevitable slice.

“Yes, Master?” Link hears Fi’s soothing voice call for him, and it takes him a moment to open his eyes that were clenched so tightly shut. There Fi floats, adjacent to himself and Ghirahim, who is still pointing the sword at his throat. Link swallows, eyes darting from the blade, to the spirit _wielding_ the blade, and then to Fi, who is awaiting her command. Link sits there, stunned.

“He’s going to _kill_ me!” he exclaims, hoping that it’s more than enough encouragement for Fi to intervene. Yet she doesn’t move from her spot.

“I detect no danger, Master,” she responds coolly and calmly, as if she doesn’t see the scene before her. “Master, I will remind you that neither of us can harm you in any way. You need not be concerned by Ghirahim. He has no intent to hurt you.”

That’s when Link notices the smirk again. The damned smirk that Link has come to hate after knowing the white-clad spirit for such a short period of time. It’s finally then that Ghirahim withdraws his blade, holding it to his chest.

“No worries, Master. No harm should befall you in our service,” he says as though his outburst hadn’t just happened, that he hadn’t just threatened Link’s life. The young Hylian merely sits there, backed all the way against the body of the dead deer. His breathing isn’t as deep or erratic as it had previously been, but he still needs a moment to collect his breath, to calm down.

“What… what was that all about?” he asks quietly, bewildered at how calm the two spirits were behaving, especially Ghirahim. “Was that all necessary?” Link gestures forward.

“Did it drive my point home? Will you again sully my blade for the sake of your dinner?” Ghirahim asks in a collected tone, contradicting the immense mood he had created with his previous emotional eruption. Link’s actions are not his own; he instinctively shakes his head, trying to clear up the tension. “Very well, Master. I look forward to you brandishing me in combat. You will find that I am an exceptional weapon. Now if you’ll excuse me, I’d like to go clean my blade of this animal filth,” he bows his head slightly before handing Fi’s blade back to her and walking away to a nearby stream. Fi holds her sword upon her sleeves for a moment, soon moving to set it gently on the ground, clearly not caring as much for her blade’s honor as Ghirahim does.

“Master,” Fi calls, kneeling down in the grass beside Link. “I detect your heart rate is elevated. I assure you that you do not need to be frightened by Ghirahim. His sole purpose is to defend you.”

“He has a funny way of showing it,” Link says through an unsteady breath, having a hard time making eye contact with Fi’s intense, violet gaze. “I don’t think he likes me very much.”

“He is devoted to you, Master,” Fi says immediately and Link sighs.

“Yes, but, I don’t think he _likes_ m— never mind.” he tries to repeat, but cuts himself short when he sees Fi cocking her head to the side, confused. Clearly she doesn’t comprehend the concept of affection, and Link is too tired to try to get her to understand. He lets it go. He has to. So what if Ghirahim doesn’t like him? Fi is right. His purpose is to keep Link safe and out of harm’s way. He doesn’t know what scaring the living hell out of him has to do with such a purpose, but as long as Link uses the sword for nothing but combat, he supposes everything will be fine. Ghirahim seems awfully prideful, Link has to recognize, so the slightest disrespect might set him off again in the future. At least he won’t hurt Link… he _thinks_ so, anyway. Link was pretty convinced he was going to die a few moments ago. Ghirahim is evidently a force to be reckoned with, which is an advantage with having him at Link’s defense. But Link can imagine a hundred scenarios where the spirit turns on him, all thanks to one instance with a dead animal. He doesn’t trust Ghirahim. And after today, he’s going to make sure he only wields Fi until Zelda can decide for herself what she wants to do with the sword spirits.

“Master,” Fi drags Link from his thoughts. The Hylian looks at her before glancing down at her lap. From within her sleeves, she produces a small knife. “Please utilize this for the purpose of preparing your meal. I estimate that it is an appropriate size for such a task,” she hands the knife over to Link, dropping it within his cupped palms.

Link grabs ahold of the handle, examining the knife. It’s a perfect size for the task he needs to complete. “How did you… _where_ did this come from?” he asks incredulously.

“I am capable of materializing knives by way of magic. It is my primary weapon for combat. I hope that it is efficient for your task, Master,” she bows her head before standing up, soon elevating herself from the ground. She seems to be most comfortable when floating rather than standing. Link still appreciated her coming to his level, though. One of the many reasons he likes, and trusts Fi.

“Thank you, Fi,” a small smile graces his lips. “This should work nicely.”

“Of course, Master. Shall I assist you?” she asks, producing another knife from her sleeve. 

“Only if you want to,” Link responds, setting a hand on the still-warm deer. “Let me start a fire, then we can get to work.”

“Allow me to gather some firewood, Master,” Fi suggests, floating towards the trees to gather bundles of sticks and branches. Link nods, leaving her to it as he turns towards the deer and prepares to get his hands dirty.


	6. Campfire

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Link learns a little bit more about the sword spirits in front of the campfire

Ghirahim had been gone for a while, not that Link cared at all. By the time he had returned, Link had started a fire, and both himself and Fi had skinned a good portion of the deer. Link was just preparing to cook some of the selected meat when Ghirahim appeared in a cloud of diamonds, directly in the middle of their campsite. It took everything in Link to not yelp in surprise by the sudden intrusion. Hylia, he _hates_ when Ghirahim teleports. 

The taller spirit holds his sword in both hands, one gripping the hilt and the other palming the blade. Link, compiling strips of meat onto a metal stoker, glances up as Ghirahim walks over towards the fire, presenting the sword. The satisfied smile that was adorning his face disappears when he sees that Link’s hands are filthy with blood and fur. “Well, I was going to present my magnificent blade for you to stow away, but I see you’re a bit busy,” he observes, and Link simply glares at him, still heated about the way he’d been yelled at earlier.

“Yeah, I see it. Looks great,” Link doesn’t even look at the sword as he says this, choosing to focus on the meat and mushrooms that he’s skewering. 

Ghirahim scowls, soon stepping forward into Link’s space. The young Hylian stiffens when he feels Ghirahim’s presence behind him, and a surprised _”hey!”_ erupts from his throat when he the spirit straps the sword into the holster on Link’s back, securing it.

“What are you doing?!” Link swats at Ghirahim, who is unmoved by the assault. Fi sits on the other side of the deer, meticulously working on carving some of the meat away for her Master, seemingly oblivious to Link and Ghirahim. Although Link knows she’s paying attention. She’s _always_ paying attention.

“I’d like to retire, and I will _not_ be set on the ground,” Ghirahim says, raising a hand in order to snap his fingers.

“You were in your sword all day. You were in your sword for _centuries_. There’s no way that you’re tired,” Link counters sourly, and Ghirahim scoffs.

“I don’t get _tired_ , boy. Excuse me for yearning for the privacy of my blade,” he nearly snarls, showing off a sharpened canine that Link tries desperately to ignore. “Now if we’re done with this childish banter, I’d like to retreat. Unless you require something of me, Master?” Ghirahim asks with venom in his tone. Link doesn’t look at him, face twisted into a pout. Why does he care where Ghirahim goes? Good riddance to him if he wants to disappear.

“Not at all. You’re dismissed,” Link waves him off, desperate to get rid of him. Clearly he’s still sour over their interaction from earlier this evening, and for some reason he wants Ghirahim to know he’s in a bad mood.

“Very well, Master. I look forward to another riveting conversation tomorrow.”

“Good night,” Link grumbles, annoyance evident in his tone. Just _go away_.

“Sweet dreams.” With a snap of his fingers, Ghirahim is gone, and Link can feel the weight and warmth of the sword on his back. He nearly drops his skewer as he throws up his hands.

“Why does he have to have the last word!” Link shouts to no one, since Fi has been keeping to herself for the past half hour. Nothing but silence follows, leaving Link the slightest bit satisfied until he hears a chime coming from the sword. _Oh that son of—_ “That’s it, I’m tossing this thing in the river,” he growls, reaching for the hilt of Ghirahim’s blade.

“I advise against such an action, Master,” Fi speaks up for the first time since they started skinning the deer, forcing Link to pause, refraining from touching the handle. “Ghirahim would be most displeased,” she says, still looking down at her work. Link scowls.

“I don’t give a damn,” he grumbles mainly to himself, not having the heart to raise his voice to Fi. She’s done nothing wrong, after all. In fact, she’s been very helpful. Much more helpful than her mean, selfish, _vain_ partner. Link is at the point where he’s reconsidering bringing him to Zelda, finding the idea of leaving him in an open field to be much more appealing. Seriously, what is his deal? So what if Link leaves the sword on the ground? Fi doesn’t mind where her blade goes. In fact, she set herself in the grass not even an hour ago! Clearly she doesn’t care, so why does Ghirahim? 

Link continues to pout and ponder, despite wanting to forget about it. He just can’t get the outburst out of his head. Perhaps he’s just not used to being yelled at, usually praised for the good work he’s done. It’s not like he was supposed to know that Ghirahim was going to hold him to these standards. He’s a _sword_. A weapon. A tool. Tools are used for completing tasks. And quite frankly, Link should be allowed to do whatever he wanted with _his_ tools. The swords spirits served him after all. 

Link wonders if he could’ve forced Ghirahim to back down by a simple command. He was too frightened at the time to consider it, but now that he thinks about it, he probably could’ve demanded that Ghirahim cease his threats. Furthermore, he could’ve demanded that he allow Link to use the blade however he saw fit, including skinning and cutting the deer. But if that were the case, Fi would’ve offered her own blade to him for such a purpose, rather than the small knife she produced instead. Fi doesn’t show the same compassion for her own blade like Ghirahim does, but she must care about it to an extent. Link wonders how attached the spirits are to their swords. He understands that they can’t stray too far from the swords when outside. But how important are the blades to the spirits?

Lost in his thoughts, he nearly overcooks his skewer, one of the mushrooms now a charcoal black. Link sighs. He hates wasting food, but at least it was just one mushroom. Pulling it from the fire, he sets the skewer onto the dish he brought with in one of Patches’ saddlebags, waiting for it to cool. In the meantime, he reaches for a larger portion of meat that Fi had cut up, preparing to throw it onto the fire.

“Hey Fi,” Link calls her name softly.

“Yes, Master?” she answers immediately. Link, knees tucked into his chest, turns his head to the side to eye the smaller spirit. Fi is sitting on her knees, carving away at the flank of the dead animal, making more strips for Link to cook. 

“As a sword spirit, do you need to eat at all?” he inquires, feeling his stomach grumble at the mention of eating. He almost wants to risk burning the roof of his mouth to eat his skewer now. Almost. He’s been there before, and the recovery was not very fun.

“No, Master,” she answers simply. Link nods, figuring as much. If they were immortal, having survived for a millennia, he’s almost certain that they didn’t need to eat. Link still thought he’d ask, though, to be polite. He’d hate to eat by himself and not offer food if Fi were hungry.

“I thought so,” he responds, and she says nothing back, ending the dialogue Link was hoping to have. He doesn’t really know what he wants to talk about. Just… anything. But Fi doesn’t seem much for small talk. She’s good at explaining topics when Link wants to know something, but that’s about all he gets out of her in terms of conversation. She’s a little robotic in a sense, answering questions when asked, and only speaking on her own when she feels necessary. 

Link pokes at the meat on his skewer, feeling the intense heat has died down enough for it to be edible. Taking a bite, he savors the flavor of the combination of the charred mushroom and the surprisingly tender meat. He hasn’t had a decent meal in a couple days and this definitely hits the spot. In between bites, Link pokes at the meat he set on the fire, and eventually flips it with his stoker, making sure it cooks evenly. He’s going to be awake for a while cooking everything he and Fi cut up. He just wishes he had someone to talk to. The silence between himself and Fi is a little overwhelming.

It doesn’t hurt to try to talk again. After all, he did still have a couple questions for her. “Hey, Fi?” he clears his throat and then takes another bite of his food.

“Yes, Master?” she answers right away again.

“You and Ghirahim mentioned that you had different, uh… forms than how you look now. You mentioned that these are your human forms,” he began, looking back at her as she carefully cut away at the deer. “How many other forms do you have? What do they look like?”

“Would you like to see, Master?”

Fi pauses what she’s doing and stares back at Link, waiting patiently for his response. Link can feel his cheeks turning red. Of course he would like to see. But he didn’t expect Fi to stop what she was doing to perform such a task for him… even if it could be considered a task. She seems more than willing, though, to show him her other identity. “Um… sure. Does it… take a lot of energy or something? I don’t want you to burn yourself out if it does.”

“No, Master, it requires a minimal amount of energy to show you my sword spirit form,” she says as she stands up, soon floating in the air. “I recommend that you shield your eyes, Master. There will be a bright light,” she warns, and Link nods, closing his eyes.

He can tell through closed eyelids when the flash of light occurs. It’s enough that he has to hold a hand over his eyes like a visor. As quickly as the light came, it vanishes, and Link takes that as permission to open his eyes. The first thing he sees is astounding.

Fi’s sword spirit form is beautiful, and admittedly a little unsettling, primarily due to the eyes. Her eyes are his main focus, solid blue and opaqued, no iris or pupil to be seen. Her skin is a remarkable metallic blue, matching her eyes, and extending down the left side of her neck and the fabric of her arm. The right side is a royal purple, the same as her dress, and dead center in her chest is a magnificent blue diamond, much larger than the one she wears on her neck in her human form. On her legs she wears a skin-tight, dark blue fabric with green fishnets crossing over one another, all the way down to the heels on her feet.

“Whoa…” Link takes her all in, captivated by her appearance. She floats gracefully before him, allowing him to take her all in. “So this is the real you? Your true form?”

“Yes, Master,” she nods, and Link focuses on her hair, which didn’t change in terms of style, but was now the same metallic blue as her skin. 

“Are you more comfortable in this form? Do you use a lot of energy maintaining your human form? Is this form more powerful for you? Sorry that I have so many questions, this is all just so exciting—whoops,” Link nearly forgets about the meat he has cooking. He takes it out of the fire with the stoker, setting it on the plate with his also-forgotten skewer.

“Yes, Master,” Fi nods again, and Link isn’t sure which question she’s answering until she speaks again. “This form is my natural form and is therefore more of a comfort to me, but my human form does not hurt. Yes, I use more energy to maintain my human form, since it is a disguise. And yes, I am significantly more powerful now.”

“Wow,” Link doesn’t know what to say other than establishing his amazement. He didn’t know what to expect in terms of her true form, but it definitely wasn’t something like this. Ghirahim was right. Her sword spirit form _is_ magnificent. He wonders… “What does Ghirahim’s look like?” he asks, remembering how infatuated Ghirahim was with himself when he had to opportunity to gloat about his true form. Is he anything like Fi? What color is he? Does he have the same metallic skin? As annoyed with the spirit as he is, Link couldn’t deny that he’s definitely curious.

“Ghirahim’s demon form is larger than his human form. I recommend once he shows you, that you prepare yourself for the sight of him so you are not overwhelmed. His skin is black and is accentuated with white, diagonal lines and diamonds. His hair—”

“Whoa whoa, wait. Back up,” Link doesn’t mean to interrupt, but he couldn’t help himself. “ _Demon?_ ”

Fi simply nods her head, floating elegantly in place, a small breeze rippling the fabric of her sleeves. “Yes, Master. Ghirahim is a demon.”

Link doesn’t know what to say. Could this explain the spirit’s strength and agility? His precision and wit? His explosive attitude? His sharp, deadly teeth? Sure, Fi shared some of those attributes, but she’s significantly less terrifying than her counterpart, and now Link knows why. He’s been traveling with a demon. A creature from the underworld. A harbinger of evil. Neither of the spirits thought it was necessary to share that one… or both of them, were demons?

“Are… are you a demon?” he asks Fi, who displays a gentle smile on her face as she shakes her head.

“No, Master. I was created by the goddess Hylia as a sword spirit companion to your first incarnation. I am not a demon,” she assures, and it settles his nerves a little bit. But having a demon sword strapped to his back gives him the chills, and he affectively loses his appetite after a few small bites of food.

“If he’s a demon, then how did he become a sword spirit? How did he get where he is today?” Link asks the blue spirit floating before him.

“I can answer your questions only to an extent, for I do not know the details of Ghirahim’s history. I suggest you ask him for his story once you see him again,” Fi recommends, and Link’s eyes widen as he shakes his head violently.

“No no no, that’s okay. I don’t need to know that badly,” Link is almost in a panic as the prospect of Ghirahim coming out of his sword. It’s not like he can set the sword down somewhere, either, because Ghirahim _will_ come out to scold him. That’s the last thing he needs right now. “Truthfully, Fi, I’m not all too comfortable around him. Especially now, knowing what he is.”

Fi cocks her head to the side like a dog trying to listen to a command. She looks utterly confused. “Master, Ghirahim cannot harm you,” she reminds for what seems like the billionth time. Link puts his hands up to stop her, to wave her off before she could continue.

“I know, I know. He can’t hurt me. I just… please, Fi. Don’t make me ask him.”

“Master, he is reformed. The spirit maiden and her chosen hero effectively purified Ghirahim by his own request. He lives solely to serve bearers of the triforce and he took a vow to cause no harm. Despite being a demon, he—”

“Fi. I don’t. I don’t want to know anymore,” he silences her, as much as he doesn’t want to stop her from talking to him, he feels that it’s in his best interest for the conversation to end.

“Very well, Master,” she obeys the hidden command, dropping the subject. “Will you need assistance with the remainder of this deer, Master? I’ve cut away a large enough portion to get you through your journey,” she asks as though the previous topic hadn’t just happened. Link sighs, looking at the pile of meat that he still needs to cook. 

“No, I think I’ll be fine,” he says softly. Fi only nods.

“If you no longer require my presence, Master, I’d like to return to my sword for the evening,” she basically asks for permission. As much as Link doesn’t want her to go, he doesn’t have it in him to force her to stay. At least he won’t be completely alone, since he has Patches to keep him company.

“Go ahead. I’ll, uh, see you tomorrow,” he dismisses her. Fi already begins to glow, preparing to disappear for the evening inside her sword.

“Good night, Master.”

“Good night, Fi,” he says, watching her dematerialize, small flecks of light flowing towards the sword in the grass. Link reaches over and picks up the sword, figuring she’d be more comfortable on his back next to Ghirahim. 

_Ghirahim._

What is he going to do about the _demon_? Is it even a good idea to bring him to Hyrule castle? To the princess? Fi assures him that he could do no harm, that he’s “reformed”, whatever that means. He should’ve let her talk, let her explain exactly what that meant. If he wants to carry out his plan to bring the swords to Zelda, then he probably needs to ask Ghirahim about his history, whether he wants to or not. 

Sighing, Link reaches for more strips of meat to cook into a jerky. He’s probably got another hour or two of work ahead of him to cook the remainder of this meat. He doesn’t mind, though. He probably won’t be able to sleep too well tonight anyway.  
~  
Link replenishes the fire twice before he’s tired enough to attempt sleep. It’s well into the night when he finishes cooking the last of the meat and stows it away in one of Patches’ saddlebags, preserved in some leaves and salt. After making sure the fire is blazing and everything is put away, Link finally takes to his side next to the fire and falls asleep, swords still strapped to his back.


	7. Demon Lord Ghirahim Part 1

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Link listens to the story of how Ghirahim came to be.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This chapter is a little bit longer than my typical chapters. So long that I have to break it up into two parts!

Link wakes naturally with the sunrise, feeling oddly refreshed despite the alarming night that he had. He supposes he just needed to sleep his troubles away, because for the most part, he feels great. Patches whinnies a few times when Link stirs, telling his owner that he probably has some needs to be met. Sure enough, he’d eaten all of the grass within his reach and was probably hungry for more.

Link yawns and stretches, getting rid of the crick in his back from sleeping on the ground. The fire is completely died out, not even an ember remaining among the ash. Good. Link doesn’t like leaving fires unattended, knowing how much chaos they can cause. Satisfied that he isn’t leaving anything behind, and that everything in his soon-to-be-abandoned campsite is in order, Link unties Patches’ reigns from the tree and leads him to the nearby stream. They have a long day of walking ahead of them and he wants to make sure his mount is properly fed and watered.

Patches takes a long drink from the stream, long enough that it gives Link time to wash up a little bit, rinsing off the dried blood and matted fur from his skin that he was too tired to take care of last night. When Patches finishes his drink, he moves on to eating some tall grass. Link allows it, knowing how much his horse needs to eat, and gives him nearly a solid fifteen minutes of grazing before deciding it’s time to go. Mounting his horse, Link gives him a few good kicks, directing him northbound back on the trail. At this pace, they should make it back to Central Hyrule in about a day and a half, give or take if Link decides to bring Patches into a gallop. His horse tends to be finicky, so it’s a toss-up if they’ll get a chance to pick up speed some time today. Definitely not now after he’d just eaten. There’s no way they’re going anywhere fast after his horse has had a good meal. Link smiles at the thought and pats Patches’ neck, happy just to be riding his favorite horse. 

It’s a chilly morning, but Link knows it’ll warm up as soon as the sun rises over the mountains. He likes this time of day. Last night he was kind of lonely, and being in the dark brings out that loneliness even more. But now he doesn’t mind being alone out of the trail, nothing but the sound of his horse’s shoes clicking on the ground. It’s peaceful. So peaceful that Link almost forgets the burden of a conversation he needs to have with Ghirahim. Almost.

Dread fills his stomach when he recalls what he learned last night, that Ghirahim is a _demon_. 

A reformed demon, according to Fi. But a demon no less. How is he supposed to knowingly bring a demon to Zelda? What will she say once Link tells him? Is this even a good idea anymore? He can guarantee that Fi is a useful asset, but Ghirahim? Who knows if he’ll turn on them? Both spirits claim that they can’t cause any harm to their masters, but Link is skeptical, especially after Ghirahim’s threatening display from last night. He can’t be trusted. Although… he really hasn’t done anything harmful. Yet. Harmful _yet_.

As much as he hates the idea, he really should talk to Ghirahim before they get too close to the castle, in case Link needs to turn around abandon the notion of presenting them to Zelda. Now if what Fi said is true, then none of this is as big of a deal as Link is making it out to be. Link trusts Fi to be honest with him. He heaves a sigh, and clears his throat.

“Ghirahim?” he asks softly, waiting for the chime. After a moment when no sound is heard, Link bites his lip and speaks up. “Ghirahim, will you come out please?”

Not long after giving his request, the chime that he was waiting for is heard ahead of him. Link holds on tightly to his reigns when Patches stops short, nearly bucking onto his back legs when Ghirahim materializes in the middle of the road, standing with his hands behind his back.

“I apologize for spooking your beast, Master, but I’d prefer to appear here rather than behind, as to avoid the risk of getting kicked in the face,” Ghirahim says as he caresses his own cheek with a gloved hand. Link, with his heart beating erratically, tries to settle his horse. Patches takes a couple steps back, but Link stops his retreat, shushing him and patting his neck to calm him down. Ghirahim stands there in the middle of the road, satisfied smirk on his lips as he watches the scene before him. “To what do I owe the pleasure, Master?” he asks when the horse is effectively relaxed, along with Link, whose breathing is now regulated. He looks up at the _demon_ in the road, swallowing hard.

“H-Hi Ghirahim,” he stammers, clearly nervous.

“Master.”

Silence then ensues, as Link is at a loss for words. Patches shifts his footing and whinnies once, creating the only noise in their general area. Otherwise no words are exchanged as Link tries to think of what to say, nothing coming to him.

“I, uh—”

“You’re curious about my history,” Ghirahim interrupts, shutting Link up. “I heard you talking to Fi last night. Is there ever a moment that you aren’t full of doubt? Do you have any faith in me, boy? I haven’t hurt you once.”

“Wha—you, you have, though! The wall you made in the desert to—”

“There was no intention to harm and you know it. I thought this had been discussed,” Ghirahim crosses his arms over his chest and taps his foot on the ground. “Do you wish to hear my story or not?” he asks, impatience evident in his posture as he waits for an answer. Link stares for a moment before swallowing again, nodding. “Very well. Walk with me,” he turns on his heel and starts down the road, not bothering to wait for Link the catch up.

“Uh… oh, okay,” Link mumbles, kicking Patches a few times to break him into a trot. Once beside Ghirahim, he tugs the reigns to slow his horse down, and soon they’re both walking at an even pace with each other. Ghirahim presses his fingers to his chest, grinning up at Link.

“Yes, I am, what you would call a demon. But don’t let that alarm you, boy. I am also what Fi had called “reformed”. In order to fully understand how that was made possible, I must share with you the rise and fall of Demon Lord Ghirahim,” he says with boom in his deep voice, and Link fights hard to not roll his eyes.

“Oh boy…” Link mumbles, settling into his seat.  
~  
_He finally had her. The spirit maiden. The little goddess. All within his grasp. And the young hero can do nothing to stop him. Not in his weakened state. Ghirahim finally had his hand on the key to his Master’s revival. He’d labored for this moment for so long and he would not allow even a sliver of a chance of interruption. Not now. Not after he’d come so far. He’ll summon thousands—_ millions _of bokoblins to keep the hero at bay, if he ever makes his way through the Gate of Time._

_The ritual is intricate and time sensitive, and he needs it to go without flaw in order for it to be successful. The little goddess lays within his spell, absent perception of the world around her. Just as he needs her. He almost can’t believe that this moment has finally come._ His _moment. His very life purpose is about to come to fruition. He just needs a little more time and…_

_Curse that instrusive child!_

_Ghirahim snarls at the sight of the young hero, put-together and determined at the top of the Sealed Grounds. Oh no, not today, boy. Not this sacred moment! With a snap of his fingers, a barrier is created to prevent the hero’s descent, and a hoard of bokoblins are summoned to eradicate the boy. Should he make it to Ghirahim whilst sparing survivors, the demon lord will slaughter the lot of them himself!_

_He must work faster, harder. He must put more effort to ensure the success of the ritual. He can’t let himself be bothered by the hero, not now. The goddess is recumbent and exactly as he needs her. He can feel her energy, her lifeforce, building beneath his skilled fingertips. She is overflowing with pure radiance and will surely be fine sustenance for his Master._

_But that damned child, already half way through the barrage of foes. That sword of his holds so much power and potential, the blue spirit guiding him. Sweat beads on Ghirahim’s forehead. He’s running out of time. There’s no way he can finish the ritual before the hero arrives._

_He’ll have expedite the process and hope that it works. A touch here, a chant there, and drizzle of magic cascading along her supine body prepares her for his Master. She just needs more time to settle, which Ghirahim can spare as he_ destroys _the chosen hero. He’d been a fool to allow the child to live. He should’ve known that he’d be a problem in the end, after he’d made it so far, escaped so many of Ghirahim’s traps and monsters. He hopes his Master will forgive him for the delay, but the boy absolutely must be dealt with once and for all._

_He’ll show the hero his true colors. What a demon sword can really do. Only one of them will walk away from this battle. Ghirahim will make him bleed. Make him suffer. Make his last moments so nightmarish that he’ll be begging for the sweet release of death. Not a single ounce of mercy will be spared tonight. Not after all of the of strife the hero has put Ghirahim through._

_So come, hero. Come meet your fate.  
~  
Defeated._

_How was this possible? A mere child, so young a friable, yet somehow so skilled in an art that Ghirahim was_ made _for… how did this happen? How is he, in his most powerful, demonic form, on his knees with a sword pointed at his throat? Ghirahim has never lost a battle. He has always been the one to make the decision to walk away first. He has never been cut, let alone_ scarred _, yet here he kneels with his diamond nearly shattered, his very core open and exposed. Vulnerable. Ghirahim has never been vulnerable to anybody, not even his Master. And yet… and yet!_

_Oh, does it even matter? At this point, anyway? He can feel a laugh bubbling in his damaged chest. No, none of this truly matters in the end. He’d won, after all. His ritual ensued during his battle with the child, and the revival of his Master is well underway. He can feel the ground tremble before him as a wicked cackle erupts from his throat. Yes! Yes!_ Yes! _It’s finally happening!_

_Ghirahim vanishes as black clouds swirl above, the Imprisoned making its anticipated appearance at the epicenter of their battlefield. Reappearing well above the ground, floating amongst the spirit maiden, Ghirahim laughs maniacally, chest heaving, ribs_ aching _as the Imprisoned swallows the sacrificial energy from the glowing goddess. Her cries of pain are music to his ears. A beautiful, sweet tune for such a fine evening!_

_The ritual is a resounding success! Ghirahim bows in the presence of his Master,_ Demise _, as he stifles his uncontrollable laughter. The humans as they stand are doomed. They will not survive the immense power that is his Master._

_His bow is cut short as his Master’s energy forces his body to stiffen, and then fall backwards. His moment has finally arrived, he thinks, as he then rises, body glowing intensely. He can feel it in his diamond, energy building in his core, the pressure so intense that it’s almost painful, until the hilt of his sword erupts from his chest. He can’t help the laughter anymore, cackling insanely as his sword is pulled through his chest. It’s time! The moment he’d been waiting for! As his magnificent blade is finally extracted from deep within him, he hears his calling._ Feels _his sword beckoning him. It’s finally time to fight alongside his Master._

_His laughter dissipates with his body, and soon his spirit is finally at home within his sword.  
~  
With the defeat of his Master, and the shattering of his sword, Ghirahim has nowhere to go. _

_He lays at the base of the Sealed Grounds in his demon form, gray skin stippled and cracked with diamonds all the way down to his blackened limbs. His cloak is absent, and his white suit is dirtied from the ground. He feels pitiful. And cold. So very_ cold _._

_That sensation of vulnerability returns tenfold. His sword is_ gone _. He has never been without his sword before, having been Demise’s sword spirit in the underworld for as long as he could remember. He was created by Demise to counter the wretched blue spirit that Hylia had produced. He existed for Demise. He was made to serve his Master as his ultimate weapon. What good is he now? Perhaps he could say his lifelong purpose had been fulfilled despite his Master’s abrupt ending? Oh but Demise had guaranteed that the world will never truly be rid of him, that the cycle will continue, and he will return. Perhaps Ghirahim will get to meet and serve his Master reborn. He almost laughs at the notion, but he’s too weak to do anything other than breathe._

_With how much energy he used today, he needs a place to retreat. To rest and regain his power. But his sword is gone, and soon he will be too. Where will he go, he wonders, when his body expires? Will his spirit return to the underworld, destined to live amongst the demons? Or does he need truly need a sword to exist in either world? He never thought he’d ever been put in this situation, never thought he’d ever have to consider where he’ll go, what he’ll do, without his sword. That sword was his entire essence, his livelihood, his reason for existing in all senses of the word. He never had to think about what he’d do if he lost his sword. He_ is _a sword. Isn’t he?_

_He feels empty, as if something had been taken from him. Yet his body feels heavy, his limbs planted firmly on the ground, unable to be lifted. He’s weak. He’s never been this weak before. He can’t even lift his head if he tried._

_Perhaps this is how things end for him; alone and empty in a pit. He doesn’t know where his spirit will go, if he’ll just_ die _. He always thought he couldn’t die. That he was immortal. Maybe under normal circumstances where he still had his sword, he would live forever. But now? Without a place to call home? He’s as good as dead._

_Losing energy quickly, the last thing Ghirahim sees before closing his eyes is a pair of brown boots approaching him._  
~  
_“Groose, give me your sword.”_

_“Wha—? Zelda, I… you’re going to kill him? I thought you wanted to help him?”_

_“I’m not going to kill him, silly. I’m going to give him an option. Now can you and Link sit him upright? Yes, that’s perfect, just like that. Fi, you’re certain this could work?”_

_“Yes, Mistress. However, I calculate only a thirty-two percent chance that Ghirahim will accept your offer.”_

_“That’s better than nothing.”_

_“Are you sure about this, Zelda? After everything he’s done to you guys?”_

_“I… I don’t know. I just know that Link is right. We can’t just leave him to die. We’d be just as bad as—oh, he’s waking up!”_

_Ghirahim feels entirely out of control of his body, almost like when Demise had possessed him and forced him into his sword. His limbs and head still feel weighed down. Even his eyelids feel heavy. But the constant noise, the conversation, forces him out of what he thought was his eternal slumber._

_No. Rather, this is his eternal_ nightmare _._

_Five pairs of eyes stare him down, and he’s powerless to lash out and rip all of their eyes from their skulls. Propped up against the steps of the Sealed Temple, Ghirahim stares back, dumbfounded by the sight of the people who… saved him? No._

_“I’ll kill you,” he hisses to the lot of them, effectively making the giant oaf with the red pompadour jump out of his skin. His gaze travels around the room, eyeing the old Sheikah dog, the oaf, the blue spirit, the young goddess, and the chosen hero._ “You.” __

_The hero begins to move his hands about, his method of communication that Ghirahim can’t wrap his head around. The only reason he knows his name is Link is because he once heard the spirit maiden say it._

_“Cease your ridiculous gesticulations,” Ghirahim says through sharpened, gritted teeth. Hylia, how he wishes his could move. His body feels like it’s suspended in quicksand. His heart races as he realizes the severity of the situation. Defenseless and unable to even move, he sits propped up on the stairs in front of his dearest enemy. The young child who bested him in battle. Whatever could their plans be for him? The boy is still making gestures with his hands, glaring at Ghirahim when he refuses to pay attention, until finally, “out with it, boy! Use your words!”_

_“He says that we’re trying to help you,” the spirit maiden translates, and his eyes dart towards her as she speaks softly. “Ghirahim, is it? I’m Zelda,” she offers a smile and takes a tentative step forward._

_“Stay back!” Ghirahim shouts, panic rising. The goddess, Zelda, pauses for a moment, considering the warning. But not long after, she’s continuing towards him slowly. “I’ll mutilate you, young goddess, if you take one step closer. I’ll have your head skewered at the end of my blade!”_

_“Hey man, she just wants to help!” the oaf finds his voice, and soon loses it when Ghirahim shoots him a glare._

_“You’ll be the first to die.”_

_“Fi, what is the chance that Ghirahim can hurt me in his current state?” Zelda pauses in her path once more, looking back at the blue spirit. That wretched blue spirit._

_“Zero percent, Mistress.”_

_Ghirahim swallows hard when her voice reaches his ears. He truly is helpless. If he can’t so much as move, how can he fight the lot of them should they decide to finish him off? If that is even their plan for him. Allegedly they want to_ help _him, and Hylia knows what that entails._

_Ghirahim doesn’t realize that the spirit maiden is upon him until he feels a small hand holding his. It takes the last bit of his remaining strength to pull away, and even then he can’t loosen himself from her grip. “Unhand me,” he snarls darkly, grey eyes concentrated on her blue pair. It’s then he notices in her other hand is a small broadsword. Nothing more than a training sword, but still enough to do damage in his weakened state. “Release me, you vile human!”_

_Panic rises when she presents the sword to him, holding it perpendicular and level to his face. Does she plan to slit his throat? Why is_ she _finishing the job, and not her chosen hero? Is she after revenge? For everything he had done?_

_“Pierce me with that blade and I promise you never-ending torment and despair for as long as—”_

_“Let’s not pretend that you’re in any position to harm anyone,” the old Sheikah—Impa, is it?—interrupts his monologue, taking a couple steps forward. “If I were you, I’d listen to what she has to say.”_

_“I’ll kill you thereafter,” Ghirahim promises._

_“You’ve tried,” she almost smirks, and Ghirahim is fuming. The droning sound of the Gate of Time ticking away behind him tells him that at some point, his body had been carried from the past, through the gate, and back to the present. Just_ who _dragged him back here remains a mystery. The thought of any of these humans laying a hand on him sickens him. Which reminds him…_

_“Release me at once. And remove that pathetic toothpick from my face.” If looks could kill, the spirit maiden would be dead ten times over. She complies only in setting the sword aside, but she doesn’t let go of Ghirahim’s hand._

_“Link saved your life,” she begins, a smile gracing her lips. “He found you at the bottom of the Sealed Grounds after you’d passed out. He and Groose carried you all the way back up here to where it’s safe,” she pauses when Ghirahim curls his lips back, showing his fangs,_ trying _to scare her off. “You know, I’ve dealt with scared remlits that act much like you.”_

_“Piss off.”_

_“Anyway… it was Link’s idea, truly,” she looks over her shoulder at the boy, who’s standing with his hands cupped together in front of him, silent as usual. “He saw the pain you went through, when Demise used you like that. We all saw. You devoted your life to him and he just used you for his own gain,” she says softly, in a soft tone that gains Ghirahim’s attention. She starts rubbing circles on his hand with her thumb, and he doesn’t hiss a warning this time. “You’re hurt. And you’re terrified, no less. We all decided to help you.”_

_Ghirahim clenches his jaw. No. Absolutely not. He will not accept_ pity _from these humans. He will not accept pity from the goddess! What happened with himself and Demise was purely between the two of them. It was destined to happen! It_ had _to happen that way! The pain Ghirahim felt was all part of the process._

_“Don’t you_ dare _show me any kind of sympathy.”_

_“But Ghirahim, it’s true. We all feel for you. No one should go through what you went through and then be left to die,” she persists, squeezing his hand. With her other hand, she lifts the sword again, turning her attention to the blade. “Fi says as a sword spirit, you cannot survive very long without a sword to inhabit. It’s kind of like your shell. I’m sure you know that, though. But if you didn’t know, she also said that you can sort of…_ possess _other swords temporarily.”_

_“What are you getting at, goddess?” Ghirahim knows, and is dreading what she is about to say._

_“Well, until we can find you a suitable replacement,” she raises the sword to his eye level again, “we’re offering you this as a temporary means of retreat. It’s the best we can do on the surface. But when we get back to Skyloft, we can have a new sword forged—”_

_“I am far too immense for that_ stick _. I’d shatter it to pieces.”_

_“Actually,” the blue spirit interjects, “in your state and with your lack of energy, there’s a ninety-eight percent chance that the integrity of the sword should support you, and that you would also be quite comfortable within its confides.” Ghirahim glares at her. Hylia how he despises her. He was built to despise her, and now more than ever his hatred for her is in full bloom._

_“Ghirahim,” the goddess grabs his attention. Oh how he wishes she would let go of his hand. “Please consider this offer. It’s… your only chance of survival.”_

_“I’d rather you left me for dead,” Ghirahim bites back, trying not to look at the sword, trying not to feel the comfort of a place to finally rest._

_“You and I both know that’s not true. This isn’t how you want to die. You’re meant to live much longer. Your purpose—”_

_“Don’t you dare tell me what my purpose is! My purpose was to serve Demise! And now that he’s gone, I have no purpose!” he tries desperately to shake her hand off of his, but he simply lacks the strength. Tears of frustration almost well up on his eyes, but he fights them back, lest any of these horrid people see. They should know no emotion from him other than rage._

_“It doesn’t have to be that way, Ghirahim,” the spirit maiden speaks calmly as she had been, voice never faltering despite all of Ghirahim’s threats. “You can always find a new purpose.”_

_“Mistress,” the blue spirit gains the goddess’ attention, and Ghirahim takes the moment to try to pry his hand from hers, with no success. “I detect now a fifty-seven percent chance that Ghirahim will consider your offer,” she calculates, forcing Ghirahim’s eyes to first dart towards hers, and then to the spirit maiden, who simply smiles warmly at him. She still doesn’t let go of his hand._


	8. Demon Lord Ghirahim Part 2

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Ghirahim's backstory continues

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This story is kind of turning Ghirahim-centric. I love the spooky diamond man a lot

_Ghirahim has never been tired before. He’s never needed to rest. He supposes having his sword inside of him for so long made it easy for him to recover when needed. But now, he’s driven to the point of exhaustion. And the pitiful excuse for a sword that the goddess has presented to him is looking more and more appealing the further away from consciousness he falls._

_He truly has spent every last ounce of energy maintaining his threats and trying to perceive the conversation, and he feels himself fading fast. The sword is calling to him, beckoning him to retreat for his own comfort and security. But there’s no way he’s going to accept the offer. The goddess is a fool to believe he would fall for such a trap. There’s no telling what they’ll do to him once he’s concealed in that sword. They’ll shatter it. Destroy it. Effectively end Ghirahim’s life where he stands. The very life that they’re trying to… save. Hm… perhaps they have other objectives, but none that Ghirahim will entertain._

_“Keep your nonsensical calculations to yourself,” he grumbles at the blue spirit, finding his voice has gone soft. He turns his gaze to the goddess. “I’d rather Demise rip my sword from my core all over again than be in your possession,_ goddess _.”_

_“You don’t mean that,” she continues on with a doting smile, refusing to let Ghirahim back away from her proposal. “We’re simply offering you a place to recover for the time being. It’s only temporary, I assure you. We can have a new sword forged, one that can withstand you. One that makes you comfortable.”_

_“And what are your plans to follow? Surely you don’t intend to leave me, the demon who abducted you from your home, who_ hunted _you, to my own devices?” Ghirahim counters as he tries to ignore the black spots dancing in his vision._

_“Well, according to Fi, you can’t go very far without your sword. Not unless it is once against sheathed within you. That would be your choice, Ghirahim. We’re simply here to pave the way for you, so you can move on in your life. Should you choose it, you could be free,” the spirit maiden squeezes his hand. He hardly feels it anymore. “Of course if you choose to pursue me again, you will be stopped. But here we’re offering you a chance to start things fresh. You don’t have to be known as Demise’s servant any longer. You can just be… Ghirahim.”_

_“Laughable,” Ghirahim nearly coughs, “that you would ever trust me to not make your life a living nightmare. I refuse your offer. Now let me die.”_

_It’s then that the hero abandons his post and rushes over to his goddess’ side, gesturing for her to read his hands. Ghirahim doesn’t have it in him to so much as roll his eyes. “Link says that he’ll fight you a thousand times over if it means you have a purpose again, if it means you’ll accept our proposal for a new sword,” the goddess translates as Link continues, “he can’t just let you die after everything you’d gone through.”_

_“Fool. You’re the reason I’m going to die. You defeated my Master and destroyed my sword,” Ghirahim bites out, and the hero’s hands move about vigorously._

_“But you survived despite it all. You were given another chance. Just take it. We promise to make you a new sword in your image, and from then on you can decide what you want to do with your life,” she speaks on his behalf, “you could live like Fi, like you were intended to live.”_

_“Serving the goddess?” he grumbles quietly, incredulously. The hero looks at the goddess and shrugs before gesturing once again._

_“If that’s what you want.”_

_“Preposterous.”_

_“Look, Ghirahim,” the goddess speaks on her own, no longer translating for the boy, who has since silenced himself. “You’re out of options. Your eyes are unfocused, your words a slurred, you’re on your way out. Please. Please just do yourself a favor and use this sword. We can talk again when you’re well-rested.”_

_Ghirahim eyes her as best as he can. She and the hero are nothing but two blonde blurs at this point. She’s right. He’s fading away. He doesn’t have it in him to argue, to come up with one last quip or threat. He parts his lips to speak, but no words bubble from his mouth. He truly is going to die. He doesn’t want to die. His purpose may have been fulfilled when his Master had utilized him, but he doesn’t feel… complete. He doesn’t feel anything at this point. Just the distant calling of a hollow sword, waiting for him to inhabit._

_His actions are not his own. He feels himself being pulled towards the sword, his body dissipating in flecks of diamonds, one by one. Despite his best efforts to just lay down and die, his body is pulled into the sword like a magnet. Oh what fresh hell is this? He’s lost complete control of his body. It’s thinking for itself, and right now its only intention is survival. But he can’t deny that he finally feels some level of comfort, now fully within the sword. He can hear the distant calling of his name, the cries of confusion—_ “Ghirahim?” “Where did he go?” “I think he’s in the sword” “Did he accept your offer?” “I… don’t know…” _Ghirahim can finally feel something besides the fear of execution and the dread of the goddess’ presence. A strange sensation of peace washes over him as he closes his eyes and rests.  
~  
Ghirahim doesn’t know how long he’s slept, but when he wakes, he finds that he’s no longer on the surface._

 _He only recognizes this place from when he sent a tornado in this vicinity to abduct the spirit maiden. He must be in the sky, on one of those floating islands. How did he get here?_ When _did he get here? He feels cramped within his sword. It’s been a while since he’s taken refuge in his blade, but he doesn’t remember it being so… small. It’s almost too small. Constricting. He feels trapped. Oh Hylia, he needs to get out!_

_It takes Ghirahim a moment to remember how to exit his sword, having not had to do that for so long. When he does, he finds himself falling to his knees on a wooden floor. He’s dizzy, eyes little out of focus, but by the time he comes to and lifts his head, he locks his gaze on the hero, who is sitting at his desk, carving a figurine out of wood. His mouth is agape at the sight of Ghirahim._

_“You…!” Ghirahim snarls, lunging forward. The hero yelps and grabs the sword off of his desk, holding it up at his defense. Ghirahim nearly cackles. “As though that pitiful blade will protect you from me—” he reaches to pluck it from the hero’s grasp, gripping the blade tightly with the intention to crush it. But as he squeezes, he feels an intense pain in his chest, forcing him to release and step back. “What is this…?” he looks at his hands and then touches his chest._

_The hero is gone in seconds, utilizing Ghirahim’s moment of distraction as means for escape. With him he takes the sword, and Ghirahim feels a force beckoning him to follow, as though he could not stand to be separated from that sword._ No. That’s not possible. __

 _Memories come flooding back to him. His defeat._ Demise’s _defeat. The Sealed Temple. The brats. The proposal. This sword. His sword. And the hero has run off with it! Does he have any idea what will happen to Ghirahim if he is separated too far from it? He’ll… he’ll…_

_Die. Like he almost did. Before those children saved his life._

_Ghirahim growls, following the hero out the door. He can feel his sword’s energy tugging him up the stairs to his right. Taking bounding steps up the staircase, Ghirahim finds the hero at a doorway to his left, the spirit maiden standing beside him, hands cupping her mouth in shock. “You’re awake!” she exclaims, excitement evident in her tone. Ghirahim doesn’t even entertain to notion of addressing her, preferring to eye the hero who holds_ his _sword within his hands. His tiny, pathetic training sword._

_“Hand it over, boy,” Ghirahim snarls, arm outstretched as he stalks over towards the children._

_“Oh, he’s mad,” the goddess observes, “in hindsight we probably shouldn’t have let him recover in Skyloft. I know that you had good intentions, Link, and that you were keeping a close eye on him—”_

_“Enough!” Ghirahim barks, booming voice shaking the ceiling of this institution. “You will explain to me just what I am doing here among the floating islands, and you will return my, uhg, “sword” to me at once!” he gets within arms-length of the children, close enough to strangle them._

_“Shhh…” Zelda holds a finger to her lips. Ghirahim blinks._

_“Did you_ shush _me?” he’s appalled, watching as the fearless goddess steps aside and beckons him into her room. He can hardly believe what he’s hearing._

_“We’ll talk. You just have to be quiet. Link, don’t let go of his sword,” she instructs, and boy nods, walking into the room. She holds the door open for Ghirahim, who can’t fathom the display before him. He’s out for blood and the young goddess is welcoming him into her home. Does she plan to pour him some tea next? Absurd! “I’ll explain everything, Ghirahim. We’ll even give you back your sword.” With that, she enters the room, waiting for him to follow. The halls of the academy are quiet, thankfully, nobody having heard the chasing or the shouting. Ghirahim, astounded, but nevertheless hungry for answers, follows the spirit maiden into the room._

_The hero stands at the opposite end, sword drawn, ready to fight if need be. The goddess reaches to take Ghirahim’s hand, and is effectively slapped away the moment her fingers touch his skin. “Not again, goddess. I will not have your filth upon me,” he snarls, fuming. He just wants answers, no beating around the bush. And certainly no displays of affection from his sworn enemies. “The last thing I recall before I was_ forced _into that sad excuse for a sword was you promising me a new blade. Where is it?”_

_“Oh, so you’re interested after all?” the goddess grins._

_“Do not test me, sky child. I will burn this entire facility down, and you within it.”_

_“Relax,” she says, hands behind her back. She no longer wears the white robes that adorned her on her excursion throughout the surface, instead wearing a tacky pink garment with multiple belts and a pair of brown boots. She looks so… ordinary. Unlike a goddess. It makes Ghirahim sick. “I just wanted to say that we’re both so glad you changed your mind. It was so sad, hearing you talk about how you’d rather be dead. But we’re happy that you’re giving us a chance to help you.”_

_“I made no such decision,” he hisses. “My body, in a last ditch effort to survive, unwillingly entered that pitiful excuse for a weapon. I did not want your help then and I do not want it now. You will return to me my sword and I will perhaps consider not slaughtering you on my way out.”_

_“Uh-huh. Well you seemed awfully interested in a new sword just a second ago,” she continues to grin and Ghirahim grimaces. “Ghirahim, we can still help you. We can give you that new sword. You can go and live your life out on the surface. Or, if you so choose, you can stay here in Skyloft.” At this, Ghirahim catches the hero staring at his goddess in shock, shaking his head. The hero is smart to not trust him. Because he’s seconds away from killing the both of them._

_“Just give me my blade.”_

_“I thought you wanted a new one?”_

_“Fine! Where is it?” Ghirahim’s patience is wearing thin. If these children don’t get to the point soon, he swears…_

_“I have it here,” the goddess motions towards her wardrobe, opening it up to reveal a pair of onyx blades, white diamonds adorning the base proximal to the handguards. The hilts are wrapped in a pristine white leather all the way to the base. The swords are astonishingly beautiful, but also very… plain._

_“What is the meaning of this? Why are there two?” he gestures towards the blades. The goddess takes one of the broadswords in her hands, holding it out to Ghirahim for him to feel. The demon crosses his arms over his chest and awaits an explanation instead. The goddess sighs._

_“Weeks ago, we had to say goodbye to Fi. As the spirit of the Master sword, her job was completed, for the sword had one duty, and that was to defeat Demise,” she begins, “but there are still monsters on the surface, and we thought it’d benefit Link to have Fi by his side again. So we had a second sword forged for Fi to take refuge in. The Master sword may finally be at rest, but Fi doesn’t have to be. And neither do you,” she again offers the sword to Ghirahim for him to hold. He refuses. “I know this is a long shot to ask, but we were talking, and considering proposing to you the idea of fighting alongside Link as well.”_

_There’s silence for a moment before a laugh ripples from Ghirahim’s throat. Oh goddess, don’t kook so surprised! What a ridiculous idea! “You must be joking,” he chuckles as the goddess’ hopeful smile fades. “Not only that, but you expect me to inhabit such a meek, plain blade? Why, did you not see the magnificent sword I once was? How does this compare?”_

_“We want you to turn over a new leaf, Ghirahim. To give you a new purpose in—”_

_“Oh stop talking about my purpose. And have your blacksmith start over. I suppose I’ll take residence on this island until a proper blade is forged for me,” he waves her off. She should’ve known better, should’ve known he’d be dissatisfied with the sword. Nothing could even come close to the sword he used to be._

_“Well, what if I told you that we can change this blade, not just by way of forging. But… enchant it. Personalize it. Make it your own. Would that interest you?” she proposes as Ghirahim eyes her, admittedly a little curious._

_“Go on.”_

_“There are the three sacred flames, the ones that the Master sword had—”_

_“Oh I see now, I see what your plan is,” Ghirahim interrupts, pointing at the spirit maiden, grin on his face. “You plan to_ purify _me. Is that it?”_

_“No! It’s meant to strengthen you, not change you,” the goddess ensures, clutching the sword to her chest. “And quite frankly, you don’t have a lot of options. You either stay in the training sword, or you inhabit this one. And if you so choose, we could enchant this sword in the sacred flames and make it unbreakable like the Master sword.”_

_Unbreakable. Perhaps that is a good selling point. Ghirahim nearly crushed the blade of his current sword with one tight grip. As he stands, his sword is not built to last. But this sword, the one the goddess is presenting, is bigger, more refined, and likely stronger even without the enchantment. And if that vile Master sword is unbreakable after having gone through the sacred flames, then there’s a chance that this blade could be the same way, once he inhabits it. But Ghirahim doesn’t trust the goddess and her hero as far as he could throw them. “What’s the catch?” he asks, wanting to dive down to the point. “Why are you doing this for me? There must be some ulterior motive, so out with it.”_

_“There’s no catch, really! We meant what we said, we didn’t want you to suffer and die, Ghirahim. We just want you to move on and find a new purp—meaning for living.”_

_Ghirahim scoffs. “You’re hoping that these flames change me after all. That I’ll_ want _to stay by your side, guide your hero like that blue spirit once did.”_

_“If you so choose,” the goddess stands her ground firmly. “I’m leaving everything up to your choice. But I will remind you that you will be stopped if you were to pursue me again. Your Master isn’t coming back, so you should have no reason to do so…”_

_“Hmph. Don’t remind me,” Ghirahim then takes the hilt of the sword from the goddess in one swift motion, and the hero jumps forward on the offense. “Stand down, boy. I’m doing nothing more than admiring my new blade.” To this, the goddess smiles brightly. “Enough of that. I accept your proposal, young goddess. So long as you make no attempts to change me, I will not pursue you in the name of my late Master.”_

_The goddess of course can’t help her smile, and Ghirahim can’t help himself from rolling his eyes. “It’s a deal.”  
~  
_Ghirahim didn’t expect that inhabiting the new sword would be as easy as a hermit crab changing its shell. He expected to suffer like he had before, which is why he was hesitant to do so. More eager to get away from his cramped training sword than he was put-off by experiencing pain, he found that the whole procedure was actually painless. He had residual energy within the sword that tied him down to it, made it part of him. He merely had to focus on extracting all of that energy from the sword until not so much as an ounce remained._ _

__

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__

__

_That’s when he started to feel the dizziness. The three of them were in the Sealed Temple, next to the Master sword, when they were making their attempt to transfer his spirit to the new blade. He insisted on going first, not wanting to sit around and see the children cry over the blue spirit that had laid herself to rest. There was even a possibility that the blue spirit couldn’t come back out again, which was more than enough of a reason for Ghirahim to go first and get this over with._

_The dizziness was accompanied by the weighted feeling he felt when his first sword had shattered. He overall just didn’t feel_ right _, and his condition was slowly declining the longer he stayed disassociated from a sword. He was quick to make his home in the blade that he had chosen, though both were identical, and insisted that the spirit maiden hold his new sword while he entered it. It was easier than before to willingly inhabit a blade than to let his bodily instincts take over this time around, and he found that the new sword was more spacious than the training sword._

_The goddess had asked him if he’d like to come out, but the amount of energy he used to just change swords had taken a toll on him. He ignored her and chose to stay, chose to watch to see if they really could convince the blue spirit to awaken from her slumber._

_He fully expected the two of them to simply beg and coax the spirit out, not draw the blade of the Master sword from its pedestal and raise it skyward. He supposed any method would be ineffective. But he was surprised to see the blue spirit emerge from the base of the sword, bowing to her Masters, asking how she could serve them. He was stunned. After fighting a being as powerful as Demise, she should be sleeping for centuries, not a few short weeks. Furthermore, she had agreed to fight alongside the hero once more, as soon as the proposal was made. Ghirahim couldn’t believe at first how eager to serve she was. It reminded him of himself with Demise. For the most part, he could understand why she would risk leaving her sword to join the hero in battle. She has more of a duty to her Masters than she does to her sacred blade._

_The Master sword will be used again, he’s sure. But will it be as powerful without a sword spirit housed within? Ghirahim’s training sword in no stronger than when he left it. But it also wasn’t enchanted by fire, either. That was their next step. After the blue spirit had gone through the identically uncomfortable process of transferring blades, the four of them were to travel throughout the surface and once again find the sacred flames._  
~  
_Two flames down, one to go. After their excursion through the desert, the four of them decide to take a break and camp out in the outskirts of Eldin volcano, just warm enough where they don’t have to build a fire for the night. The two children rest comfortably with the swords laid out in front of them, clutched to their chests. The blue spirit in the boy’s hand and Ghirahim in the goddess’. It’s then that Ghirahim exits his blade, craving to breathe the night air after having been within his sword throughout the duration of the journey._

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__

_The flames of Farore were admittedly a little painful. He stood upon the pedestal beside the blue spirit, allowing the flames to engulf him. They didn’t burn, but they stung, like hundreds of wasps telling him that he wasn’t supposed to be there. The blue spirit was motionless, either hiding her discomfort or too pure to feel any of the stinging sensation at all. It was then that he felt himself, wrapped in green flames, being pulled towards his blade. Both he and the blue spirit were forced back into their swords in the form of small fireballs, and from there compelled to rest. He didn’t know how tired the blue spirit was, not that he cared. He just needed to build up strength before they reached the second flame._

_Nayru’s flame wasn’t nearly as painful. Or Ghirahim had anticipated the stinging of the flames this time around. The blue fire felt warm, and somewhat welcoming as it swallowed him whole, forcing him once again to meld into his blade. From there, he once again rested, and had not come out of his sword until now._

_Tonight is the first time he’d gotten to see his sword since the flames had touched it. The blade was still a sleek black, but a fair bit longer, flared out at the base. The handguard had a more intricate design to it, swirling outwards much like a fencing sword. And the hilt was still wrapped in the white leather, not much different than it had been before. Ghirahim leans over the goddess, admiring his new blade. It isn’t… awful. In fact, it wasn’t awful to start with. But now, he actually kind of likes it._

_“I detect a seven percent chance that you are going to harm the Mistress,” the blue spirit’s voice doesn’t startle him, but it does force him to rise from his crouching position over the goddess. He turns to see the spirit floating before him, just waiting for him to make a move so she could intervene. “Any chance greater than zero is too high for me to ignore. Step away from the Mistress, please.”_

_“So polite,” Ghirahim grins, taking a step back as instructed, hands raised in the air to show his innocence. “Am I not allowed to simply look at my sword?” he asks, then putting his hands behind his back and stalking towards the spirit, who is unmoved. “You know—Fi, isn’t it? You know, Fi, I don’t quite understand what you’re doing here. A chance at slumber after your sole objective has been completed and yet here you are, aiding the children in a fruitless effort to eliminate beasts that will continue to reign so long as I exist. They do know that I’m the reason for the bokoblin infestation, correct?”_

_“You have the power to stop it,” she says pointedly. Ghirahim starts to circle her. She is still unmoved._

_“Mm, afraid not, my dear. They go wherever I go. It’s a curse, I suppose. So long as I am alive and well, the little nuisances will populate the surface. One more good reason that the children should have let me just die.”_

_“You didn’t want to die,” the spirit interjects, and Ghirahim stops pacing. “I calculated a one hundred percent chance that you did not want to die.” Ghirahim scowls._

_“I’m surprised you didn’t just say so weeks ago when I was on my deathbed,” he eyes her up and down, checking for any offensive signs. She remains floating, still unmoved by Ghirahim’s prowling. “Tell me, why do you serve the goddess and her little hero?”_

_“It is my purpose.”_

_“Of course, of course. But why now? After the defeat of Master Demise, surely you should be at rest? Why are you on this excursion?” he begins to pace around her again, speaking quietly as to not wake the children._

_“I cannot refuse a request from either of my Masters. Surely you can understand,” she watches him carefully as he circles her like a lion about to take down its prey. “Why are_ you _here, Ghirahim?” she inquires, sounding a little less robotic._

_“To temper my blade and make is stronger. I cannot do it by myself, thus why the children are aiding me,” he comes up with an answer quickly, waving his hand about as he speaks._

_“Are you not interested in finding a new Master?”_

_Ghirahim stifles a laugh, not wanting to wake the sky children. “I’d like to meet a Master that could even compare to Demise. There is nobody out there like him. Yet,” he grins up at her, sharpened teeth on full display. “I will await a time that an incarnation of my Master is reborn, then serve whomever that may be. We will reign together as we are meant to, Master and devoted servant.”_

_“Until the incarnation of my Masters eliminate yours.”_

_Ghirahim stops short once again, glaring up at the blue spirit. “What do you know that I don’t?”_

_“I know that Demise’s hatred will live on in a never-ending cycle of reincarnation. But the goddess and her hero will be reborn as well. I estimate a one hundred percent chance that every iteration of Demise will be eliminated effectively by the bearers of wisdom and courage,” Fi looks down upon Ghirahim, who stands with his lips parted, eyes widened._

_“So you’re telling me that I am doomed to fail for all eternity?”_

_“Not necessarily,” the blue spirit turns her body in his direction, lowering herself until they are at eye level with one another. Ghirahim gazes into a pair of solid blue, seemingly lifeless eyes. Why doesn’t the spirit have a human form like Ghirahim? Why does she constantly choose to express herself in her sword spirit form? “You could side with my Masters, where you will not only be treated with respect, but you will be destined to succeed. The choice is yours, Ghirahim.”_

_With that, the blue spirit floats towards her sword, bowing to him and bidding him a good night. She must detect that he will not harm the children, too captivated by what he had just learned to even consider it. He stares at his own sword, and the goddess who holds it, wondering just what he is going to do with his life, given this new information._

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I don't know why one paragraph isn't italicized. AO3 will just not let me fix it lmao


	9. Bokoblins

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Link and Ghirahim reconcile a bit before fighting a small tribe of bokoblins

Link is practically laying on Patches’ mane as they walk slowly down the trail, Ghirahim moving at a steady pace beside them. The curtain of white hair blocks his face from this angle, so Link hadn’t been able to see the demon’s expression unless he was looking directly at him. For the most part, Ghirahim had been sullen in recounting his story, putting a lot of emotion into his recollection. Link had been listening so intently that he felt like he was actually there. “So…? It was Fi who convinced you to switch sides?” he asks, arms dangling uselessly off the side of Patches as he presses his face into his fur.

“She played a part. It was truly my own decision,” Ghirahim answers softly. “It was difficult to abandon my life’s work, but I had no work to return to. My Master was gone. Any of my future Masters would be brought down the same way. My life was therefore pointless. After the hero and his goddess had saved my life, I couldn’t let it go to waste, wandering the surface, waiting to see if an opportunity for revenge would arise. So, after the third flame, I asked the goddess to take me in as her servant.”

Link blinks a few times. “Was that hard for you?”

“Immensely,” he says, glancing towards Link. “She was overjoyed, of course. Wanting the best for me and such. I still played as a thorn in her side, perhaps for too long into her mortal life. But her first incarnation was truly my favorite—the only one who would understand my situation and not scoff at a demon playing hero. They all have done so, until I showed them my worth. I promise you that I’ll have to do it all over again once we meet the princess,” he sighs, looking back towards the road. “Yes, it was the young goddess who had made so many things possible for me. But of course I have the chosen hero to thank for not abandoning me in that pit. He truly is the reason for my second chance at life. Which is why I am devoted to the both of you.”

“Are you devoted by your own free will, or by some kind of some kind of magic like Fi?” Link asks, and to this Ghirahim smiles.

“A little of both, I’d say. I asked the goddess to make me her servant, as so I can know the feeling of truly having a Master once more. Having a Master who cared for my wellbeing was… overwhelming, at first. I actually tried to break off the contract, to leave. And she let me go off on my own after my moment of panic. But I eventually returned, unable to bring myself to stay away from my Master. I had been separated from Demise for so long before I resurrected him that I could not stand the distance I had caused from my new Masters—Masters who wanted what was best for me… who treated me like more than a servant,” he pauses for a moment, and looks back at Link, smile long gone. “The death of her mortal form was the hardest for me, and every incarnation of her hates me until they get to know me, but deep down they all remember me. That is why I am more than eager to meet your Zelda.”

“Ghirahim?” Link asks, rising up from his laying position, patting Patches a couple of times. It’s midday, the two of them have been walking for hours now as Ghirahim had recounted his story. Ghirahim gives Link a _hm?_ before he continues. “Where were you a hundred years ago? Both of you? I fought Calamity Ganon with the Master sword because I was told it was the blade of evil’s bane, but there’s nothing special about it at all.”

“It is very special, in fact,” Ghirahim counters, practically scolding Link. “It defeated your Ganon, did it not? The same way it defeated Demise? And all of the incarnations to follow? Just because Fi no longer possesses it doesn’t mean isn’t a powerful blade,” he explains with a little bite in his tone, “as for how we ended up in Gerudo Town, well, that’s kind of a funny story,” Ghirahim grins again. “Your previous incarnation left us in an abandoned temple in the Gerudo Desert before he died, so we were not found by any commoners. An earthquake occurred and buried us deep underground, a place where only one of those wretched Moldugas could find us. We were swallowed, and carried all around the desert until the Molduga was slaughtered by a group of Yiga scouts. Our swords were perched as decorations within their hideout—I know, _decorations_ , could you believe it? Anyway, we were mere decorations until a group of Gerudo raided the hideout and took with them several goods, including our swords. It was pure coincidence that you happened to walk into the shop that was selling us.”

“That is…” Link started, scratching his head, “disgusting, for one. And two, not how I expected to find my long lost swords. Seriously, swallowed by a Molduga?”

“I wouldn’t lie to you, Master. That is how we came to be. You were meant to find us in the temple. Your connection to us must’ve been severed when the earthquake happened. Not only that, but your _situation_ with your memory loss didn’t help matters. Ah but destiny is a wonderful thing, is it not? Because here we are, reunited once more.”

“I guess so,” Link shrugs, biting his lips. “Hey Ghirahim, I’m sorry for the way I treated you. Y’know, being a little put off by you any everything. Especially after learning that you’re a demon, and all. And I’m _really_ sorry for not, you know, respecting your sword. I didn’t realize how important it was to you.”

“No worries, Master. You’re not the first Link that I’ve had to tell my story to,” Ghirahim says with a slight bow. “And as for the sword situation, I admit to being a touch harsh in scolding you. I could have simply told you the significance of ours blades to us spirits. I suppose I was a little short with you because a previous Link once used me as a back scratcher.” To this, he shudders, and Link can’t help his laugh.

“Have we really all been named Link?”

“Link and Zelda. You’re quite a pair. Sometimes partners in combat, sometimes princess and knight, sometimes _lovers_ , always companions,” he says, showing off pointed teeth in a grin as Link blushes.

“We—we’re not, we—”

“Relax, hero, just poking a bit of fun. Oh, well now. Speaking of fun.” Link follows Ghirahim’s gaze, eyeing a tribe of mostly red bokoblins far off in the field, surrounding a small camp that they’ve created. Among them is one blue bokoblin, and one silver. Link winces. The silver ones are hard to fight. And damn it, he only had one arrow left. “Well, let’s not dawdle. Grab hold of my blade, Master, and together we’ll make swift work of these pests.”

“Wha, uh, oh… okay,” Link says with hesitation, getting a look at the silver bokoblin once again.

“Come now, Master, don’t tell me you’re afraid of a bunch of bokoblins? We’ll be finished within minutes and thereafter can move on with our day,” Ghirahim says, raising a hand in the air. He snaps his fingers, and suddenly in his hand he holds a long, black saber. Link gets an eyeful of the weapon, astounded by the sheer size of it. Well, Ghirahim is pretty big, so he supposes he needs a big weapon. 

“I’m not afraid, it’s just. The silver ones are kind of strong,” he points out towards the field, and Ghirahim nearly cackles.

“Excellent. You’ll take the silver one and I’ll tackle the rest. Mmm, it’s been a while since I’ve gotten to pierce a monster at the end of my blade. I can’t wait,” Ghirahim licks his lips, and Link can see the bloodlust in his eyes. “Come now, Master! Aren’t you eager?”

“Uh… super,” Link mutters, dismounting his horse slowly. He draws his blade, making sure it’s Ghirahim’s red diamond that he sees on the flared base, and crouches down, preparing to sneak off into the grass towards the tribe. Ghirahim, on the other hand, has a different idea, teleporting himself right in the center of their campsite. The six or so bokoblins stop doing what they’re doing, astounded by the intrusion, before half of them go after their weapons. “Ghirahim! What are you—”

“Master, you’re missing it!” Ghirahim cackles as he swiftly slashes through the abdomen of the first red bokoblin, the monster effectively going up in a cloud of purple smoke. 

There’s no point in sneaking up on them now. The bokoblins all crowd around Ghirahim, weapons raised, some holding rocks to throw, but the demon doesn’t break a sweat. Link stands up tall and jogs forward, locking his gaze onto the silver monster. Link whistles, drawing the attention of the silver and two reds, both wielding bats on the offense. The three charge towards Link’s direction, and the Hylian halts in place, sword raised.

Before the first red bokoblin could reach Link, Ghirahim magics himself in front of it, stopping its hunt. Grin on his face, he slices diagonally with his saber, ending its life in a flash. The two other reds and the one blue are in pursuit as Ghirahim turns on his heal and jabs forward, piercing the beast directly in the chest, right in between the ribs.

“The silver monster is all yours, Master. I’m almost done here,” he grins wickedly, snapping his fingers and reappearing behind the remaining horde. 

“Gee, thanks,” Link swallows as the silver bokoblin circles him, taunting him. This one doesn’t fight with a weapon—doesn’t need it, in Link’s experience. Snorting, the bokoblin makes a swipe at Link, who dodges to the right, missing by a hair. Skidding in the dirt, Link locks his feet and attempts a slash. He hits the shoulder of the beast, who cries out in a high-pitched, enraged scream, before lunging back at the young Hylian.

Link dodges again, practically doing a backflip to get out of the way. He glances to his left and see that only the blue bokoblin remains with Ghirahim, who is knocking saber against bat, trying to disarm the monster. Eyes darting back to the silver, Link makes another jab in its direction, swiping a perfect slice from thorax to abdomen. Whoa. The sword barely grazed the skin and yet it cut the skin nice a deep. Link feels his own grin form on his face. This is the first time he’s fought with either of these blades, and he can already tell he’s going to like wielding them.

Link ducks out of the way of another swipe, and uses the movement as an opportunity to slash at the legs. The monster cries out, falling to its knees the moment Link cuts some vital tendons. Bleeding and weak, the silver, still resilient as ever, crawls its way towards Link, snarling and swinging its fist. But it’s unable to get close to Link, not with him pacing out of its reach.

Ghirahim is suddenly next to him in a cloud of black and orange diamonds. His saber is coated in blood, small splatters adorning his white gloves and gray arms as well. A satisfied, lopsided grin appears on his face as he steps back in sync with Link while the monster continues its pitiful assault.

“Playing with your prey, Master? You don’t seem like the type,” he nudges Link with his elbow. The monster, still on its knees, grabs a rock and chucks it, missing Link’s head by an inch.

“Just waiting for the perfect moment…” Link raises his sword, watching as the beast takes another swipe, stumbling. _There_. Link slashes down on the back of the bokoblin’s neck, cringing and gritting his teeth as he feels his blade slice through muscle and bone. The bokoblin screams, a noise Link knows all too well, before disappearing abruptly in a _poof!_ of purple smoke. 

Link pants, not realizing he’d been holding his breath until he feels himself getting dizzy. The silver ones always made him nervous, but this one was particularly easy to fight, compared to all the other ones he’s killed before.

“Well done, Master,” the demon claps a large hand on Link’s shoulder. The Hylian blushes from the attention, and trying to shake Ghirahim off of him. All the while he can’t help the smile on his face as he looks down at his own bloodied blade, admiring it.

“This sword. It’s…”

“Phenomenal, I know,” Ghirahim is all teeth as he bolsters his own ego. “The goddess did an excellent job when she had my blade forged and tempered. I’ve said it before and I’ll say it again, it’s truly magnificent,” he compliments his own blade, never mind that Fi’s is identical and probably can do the same damage. Link doesn’t say anything to bring him down, though. It’s nice to see Ghirahim happy after the story he just told.

“I’ve never killed a silver bokoblin so quickly. It’s like, this sword is more enhanced than other swords I’ve used.” It’s as effective, if not even _better_ than the Master sword. It’s like the sword was made for Link. It feels… right, in his hands. Like it belongs.

“It suits you, Master,” Ghirahim lets go of his saber, but instead of it falling to the ground, it dematerializes in small pieces before disappearing. He snaps his fingers once again, and instantly the blood that sprinkled his clothing vanishes. “Might I suggest you fight with both swords next time. You’ll find having dual weapons it twice as effective when you’re upon a horde of foes.”

Link did consider fighting with Fi’s sword. But he had rushed into battle so quickly that he didn’t have a moment to draw it. The advantage to fighting with dual swords was that he would strengthen his left arm for combat, make it more formidable against enemies, thus making him more skilled. The disadvantage would be that he couldn’t use a shield. 

But Ghirahim wasn’t using a shield. In fact, Link didn’t see him even dodge any enemies, always so quick to draw blood that the bokoblins didn’t even have a chance to strike him. Link wants to learn to fight like that, to be more elusive and harder to hit. He’s lucky he didn’t get hit today, but that’s not always the case in most fights. There have been many a night where Link’s had to restore his health with a potion or two, thanks to a good smack from a boko bat, or nearly being crushed to death by a moblin. But if he could fight like Ghirahim, maybe he could cut the number of injuries he endures in half. Maybe more.

He’ll ask Ghirahim to train him once they’re back to the safety of Hyrule Castle. It’ll be another advantage that he could use to persuade Zelda to let the spirits crusade the countryside with him. Maybe even after hearing their story, she’ll even want to come with. He knows that Zelda is probably bored to death doing diplomatic princess stuff. She’d appreciate a good journey, even if it’s short.

“If you can spare a moment, Master, I’d like to clean my blade before we continue on our path,” Ghirahim breaks Link’s train of thought.

“Oh, uh, sure,” he says, handing the sword back to the demon, “but I don’t think there’s a stream or a pond nea—” Link is stopped short, mouth dropping agape in horror as he watches an impossibly long tongue lick the blade. Ghirahim’s tongue glides up and down the length of the sword, leaving behind not even a speck of blood.

“You were saying, Master?” Ghirahim grins again, handing the sword back to Link once it’s clean. Link tentatively takes the sword, slowly scabbarding it on his back as he stares at the demon, still not blinking.

“Pardon me while I go throw up,” he finally says, turning on his heel and marching back to Patches, Ghirahim following close behind.

“Psh. You and your incarnations are all so squeamish,” Ghirahim chuckles, and Link thinks he actually might vomit. He had told Ghirahim so just to be dramatic and drive the point home that _that_ was the most disgusting thing he’d ever seen in his life. But now? Link can feel bile rising up in his throat. Ghirahim only continues to laugh at his suffering. _Maybe he’s still some kind of villain after all._


	10. Korok

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Link meets a little korok friend, learns a little more about his past lives, and has an uncomfortable conversation

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Very small Wind Waker reference! I've never played Wind Waker. My only knowledge of it is from watching a let's play on Youtube.

Ghirahim had retreated into his sword for the remainder of the day’s excursion, leaving Link alone with nobody but Patches. The evening is quickly approaching, and it’s nearly time to settle down and build a fire.

Link was given a lot to think about in just a short amount of time. He didn’t think that a quick break in Gerudo Town would lead him to presenting powerful, magical beings to the princess. All he’d meant to do was find a place that sold arrows—which he failed—and pick up a new sword somehow some way. Now he’s toting around relics, two immensely formidable weapons powered by ancient spirits whose sole purposes are to serve their respective Masters. Not only that, but one of them is a reformed _demon_.

Link supposes that Ghirahim has every right to expect disappointment from the princess once he’s presented. Link and Zelda defeated a great evil together, one that plagued Hyrule for over a century. To bring a demon, a creature of the same evil, to the very same plagued castle would not only be frowned upon, but might even be considered treason. Which is why, Link has decided, that he’s going to leave out the part that Ghirahim is a demon.

Link didn’t know at first, so why does Zelda need to know? In fact, Link was perfectly happy not knowing, albeit a little frightened for some unknown reason until the information surfaced. But it wouldn’t cause any harm to keep Zelda in the dark about the topic, would it? Ghirahim gives off the impression that he’ll show more respect to the princess than he initially showed Link. So the subject of _this particular sword spirit seems to be hiding something_ should not come up in conversation, so long as Ghirahim or Fi don’t casually discuss it. 

That might be a problem. Fi doesn’t have a firm grasp on a lot of social norms. She’s very blatant with information, which Link likes about her, but there’s a very real possibility that she just might outwardly tell the princess that her companion is a demon. Link may have to have a talk about what not to say in front of the princess. Surely the spirits will understand, having to have dealt with previous incarnations of Zelda. Link wonders, has she always been a princess? Or had some kind of position of power? What role has Link played in his past lives? Ghirahim mentioned that often times he was a knight, just like he is now. But there is an implication that he’s been in different situations, different positions in life before stepping up and becoming the hero. He’s curious, how did he always come to meet Zelda when he wasn’t her knight?

Link gets a little lost in his thoughts, not noticing that the sun has dipped below the horizon until he realizes that he can’t see very well. Perhaps it’s time to make camp for the night. Then he’ll have a talk with the sword spirits.

Finding a collection of rocks that make up a small den, Link approaches, dismounting Patches and tying him to a tree. Two very familiar statues sit within the den, one with a dish holding an apple in front of it, and the other without. Fortunately, for both himself and Patches, the tree that his horse is tied to is an apple tree. Link jumps up, plucking as many apples as he can reach, a total of four. He feeds two to Patches, one after another, and takes the other two for himself. One to eat, and one to offer to the statue. Link places the apple on the dish, smiling as a small friend appears with an ecstatic _“yahaha!”_

“Thank you, Mr. Hero!” the little woodland creature, a korok, takes the offering of the apple, holding onto it like precious treasure. In return, it gives back a little golden seed.

“No, thank you,” Link pockets the seed in his pouch. He makes note to visit Hestu when he gets a chance. “You’re welcome to stay the night. I’m building a fire,” he says as he reaches into Patches’ saddlebag for some flint. The korok nods enthusiastically, simply excited by its hero’s presence.

Link gathers a sufficient amount of firewood and expertly ignites a decent fire. Fishing out some jerky from a saddlebag, he takes a seat in front of the blaze and inhales his food as if he hadn’t just had a snack not too long ago. The korok waddles close to him, settling itself beside him while taking small bites of the comparably large apple. Link stifles a chuckle, amused by his new tiny friend.

It’s about a half hour later that Link is settled in and satisfied. He hadn’t heard from either of the spirits since Ghirahim retreated into his sword, not even a chime. Link doesn’t want to bother either of them, especially if they’re resting. Well, according to Ghirahim, they don’t get _tired_ , even though his backstory contradicted his point. But Link should really talk to them, prepare them for their meeting with the princess tomorrow. 

“Hey Fi? Ghirahim? Can you come out please?” he asks quietly, sitting up straight. He feels the weight and warmth of the swords on his back start to dissipate, and soon Fi appears in a flash of light, and Ghirahim in a cloud of diamonds. Both bow to him upon exiting their swords, something that Link still isn’t used to.

“How may we serve you, Master?” Ghirahim asks, closed eyes opening and immediately targeting onto Link’s small companion. Without waiting for an answer, he smiles. A real, genuine smile that Link has never seen before. “Hello, small korok.”

The korok clearly doesn’t feel the same level of excitement as Ghirahim does, immediately rushing behind Link to hide. Ghirahim’s smile turns into a grimace immediately, and Link can see the disappointment on his face when the korok peers from behind Link, nearly trembling.

“You guys have seen koroks before?” Link asks, reaching behind himself and putting a gentle hand on the small creature’s back. Ghirahim straightens up, standing tall, effectively scaring the poor korok even more with his impressive height.

“I haven’t seen them in centuries. I thought that their race had died off,” he says, crossing his arms over his chest. Beside him, Fi floats upwards from her bow, settling at about eye level with Ghirahim. “I haven’t seen them since the kingdom had flooded and was nothing more than several small islands.”

“Whoa,” Link looks from Ghirahim to Fi, who nods in confirmation. “Was one of my incarnations there?” he asks eagerly. He’s never heard a story about a flooded kingdom before. And apparently koroks existed on these islands? He stares upwards at the pair of spirits, intrigued.

“Ah yes, an unforgettable Link, I assure you,” Ghirahim’s trademark grin creeps across his face, and the korok whimpers at the sight of his sharp teeth. Link feels himself smiling in excitement. “He was a brat.” And with that, the smile is gone, replaced by a pout. “Just a small child, barely knowing how to wield a sword—let alone two—on a great journey to save his sister, and then the world. Fi and I were practically parents to those runts.”

“Runts?” Link interjects. “Zelda was there too?”

“Oh was she ever there. The young lady started off as a rude, crass pirate. She actually confiscated us from you on your journey and wielded us in battle, leaving you with a mere dagger to fight with up until she was revealed as the princess.”

“You’re making this up,” Link says pointedly with a grin. There’s no way any of this is true. A waterlogged kingdom? _Pirates?_ Link had only ever heard of pirates as make-believe figures from children’s stories. 

“It’s no lie, Master. Your incarnations were young children on an immense journey,” Fi confirms. “During our stay on one of the islands, we encountered the korok race, and Ghirahim grew quite fond of the creatures.”

“It’s true. I have a soft spot for them, I admit. That’s why I was quite disappointed to see that the little one is so fearful of me,” Ghirahim holds the back of his hand to his forehead in a display of despair, one that makes the korok stop trembling and peek at him curiously. Link looks down at his little companion, smirking.

“I think it likes when you’re dramatic,” he says pointedly, and Ghirahim scoffs.

“Dramatic? I am never _dramatic_ ,” he spits back, dramatically. Upon witnessing Ghirahim press his hand to his chest in declaration, the korok erupts in small giggles. Ghirahim pauses and looks down, unable to help his smile as the small creature steps out from behind Link. Crouching down, Ghirahim reaches a large hand out to the korok, who stares in interest, nearly jumping back in surprise when glimmering diamonds erupt from Ghirahim’s palm. Soon, though, the korok is stepping forward, staring at the orange and black diamonds in wonder. “They were always so fascinated by my magic. I’m glad to see that their race isn’t extinct.”

Link leans back and admires the interaction between the korok and Ghirahim. It’s almost hard to believe that Ghirahim is a _demon_ of all things. Which reminds Link, he has to have an uncomfortable conversation with the spirits, the very reason he asked them to come out of their swords tonight. He waits for a bit, giving them some time to enjoy their moment before he clears his throat.

“I wanted to talk to you guys about something,” Link breaks the silence, and both spirits look in his direction as though they were commanded. Another thing Link will probably never get used to. “Um, can we _not_ mention to the princess that Ghirahim is a demon?” he asks, shrugging his shoulders upwards towards his ears. Ghirahim looks at him, confused.

“Lie?” he asks, and Link shrugs even more.

“Not exactly… more like… omit the truth?” he answers. Ghirahim still looks confused. Even Fi, who masks emotion in her face so well, has a look as though she lacks understanding of the request.

“May I ask why, Master?” Ghirahim closes his palm, and the diamonds disappear. The movement spooks the korok, who finds himself hiding behind Link again.

“I just don’t think Zelda will react well to me bringing a demon into the castle. She might not be happy with my decision to travel with you once she knows,” Link feels bad. Mostly because Ghirahim is just staring at him, as though waiting for a better explanation. “I, uh, I don’t mean for you to _hide_ who you are, especially if you’re proud of being a demon! I just think that the princess won’t accept you without a good explanation.”

“Then we explain it to her,” Ghirahim says pointedly, gaze still locked onto Link’s blue eyes, unblinking. 

Cringing a bit, Link looks away, “that’s uh, not what a meant, uh…” he stumbles over his words, getting nervous, “I just think that it’s probably best if we keep it a secret, is all. For your sake, at least.”

“If you’re worried about how I’ll be affected by her reaction, Master, I assure you I’ll be fine. I’ve been through this before,” Ghirahim says, clearly not on the same page as Link, who sighs.

“I’m not worried for you, I’m just… I…” 

“I’m sure that the princess will be most understanding. They all have been, eventually,” Ghirahim interrupts, and Link starts to get frustrated.

“I know. It’s just. She might…” he takes a deep breath a closes his eyes, thinking for a moment. He doesn’t want to do this, but it seems like he has no choice. Straightening out his shoulders, Link looks back up at Ghirahim. “You will not tell Zelda that you’re a demon,” he orders, watching as Ghirahim’s eyes widen. Link glances up at the floating spirit. “You too, Fi. You will not tell Zelda what Ghirahim is. That’s a… that’s a command.”

“Yes, Master,” Fi replies swiftly, untroubled by the request. Ghirahim, on the other hand, is still staring at him. He can feel sweat beading on his forehead, and he can’t tell if it’s from the fire or from being nervous. All he knows is that he can’t handle the way the Ghirahim is staring at him, and he’s seconds away from ordering the demon to knock it off when suddenly he rises from his crouched position. He then bows, hand on his chest.

“Very well, _Master_ ,” Ghirahim says, bite in his tone that makes Link visibly cringe again. Link absolutely hates exercising his authority, preferring that others take the reigns in difficult situations. He’s never been in a significant position of power and never will be, and a simple request seems like he’s asking too much of the spirit whose purpose is to serve him. 

There’s an uncomfortable silence that lingers around the campfire. Link doesn’t know what to say, and neither of the spirits are speaking either. Even the korok is quiet, peeking out from behind Link’s back, sensing the tension. Link, unable to take it anymore, opens his mouth to apologize and explain himself, but he’s quickly interrupted by Ghirahim.

“If that is all you need from me, Master, I’d like to retire for the evening. Thank you.”

“Ghira—”

A snap of the fingers, and he’s gone. Link feels his presence within one of the swords on his back. He swallows, looking up at Fi.

“Will he be okay? He seems… mad,” Link asks her.

“Ghirahim’s emotions have no reflection on his health.” That’s not what he meant, but he supposes he’ll take it as an answer. Link sighs, leaning back against the wall of the den, staring at the fire.

“I think I’m going to go to bed. You can do whatever you want, Fi,” he dismisses her without looking at her, eyes fixated on the blaze. 

“Have a pleasant sleep, Master,” Fi wishes him, disappearing in a flash of light back into her sword. Link doesn’t usually like when the spirits leave his company, but this time he’s a little grateful to be alone. Well, not _completely_ alone, not with his little korok friend snuggled against him. A small smile forms as he pats the korok’s back. He then leans his head against the wall and continues to gaze at the fire, trying to erase his mind of thoughts, and waits for sleep to take him.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I posted some drawings on my Tumblr of what Ghirahim and Fi look like in this AU. Check it out!
> 
> https://lamothla.tumblr.com/post/637045775272230912/show-chapter-archive


	11. Zelda

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Link travels through Central Hyrule to reunite with Zelda

After saying goodbye to his korok friend the following morning, Link is well on his way back to Central Hyrule. In a matter of hours, he has the castle within sight, his reunion with Zelda quickly approaching.

He hadn’t heard from either of the sword spirits since last night, and thinking about them ties his stomach into a tight knot. He didn’t think he’d ever be doling out orders to anyone, let alone to the two immortal entities that made a vow to serve him. Despite knowing that that’s what he’s _supposed_ to do, that he’s _allowed_ to take charge, the whole situation makes him uncomfortable, especially what he had requested from Ghirahim.

He doesn’t know if the demon is proud of his title. He’s awful prideful in general, but is he truly proud of being a demon? If he is, why didn’t he introduce himself to Link as such? Did he think that it would overwhelm Link—which it did—to make that piece of information part of his entrance? Link can’t know for sure without asking Ghirahim, and at this point he thinks it’s going to remain a mystery. Ghirahim seemed upset by the request for silence, which leads Link to believe that he doesn’t want to hide part of his identity from Zelda. Link can’t quite ask him to be sure, not with the grudge he thinks the demon is holding.

Of course, he could command him to come out of his sword and explain himself, explain his moodiness. 

Link shakes that thought right out of his head. He won’t abuse his power over the spirits, no matter how badly he wants to resolve the conflict. If Ghirahim wants to talk, he’ll talk. Talking about himself is his favorite thing to do, from what Link has gathered. He’s sure he’ll get some insight on the situation eventually. Link blows a deep breath through parted lips, trying to alleviate the frustration. He soon catches sight of something that makes him happy, however, and he feels the tension leaving his shoulders.

He’s approaching a section of Hyrule field that was once a bunch of dilapidated ruins. Nowadays, it’s a soon-to-be flourishing town. Link and Zelda, together with various villagers and travelers, came together months after the end of Calamity Ganon’s reign to help reconstruct some of the small towns and homes within Central Hyrule. Following the directions of the kind workers from Bolson construction, a lot of progress had been made over time, and one of many small towns are starting to come together.

“Hey, Link’s back!” Link’s ear twitches when he hears his name, and he catches sight of one of the villagers of the newly-established town. Unfortunately, Link has helped a lot of people, and his memory still remains fuzzy, so he doesn’t exactly remember everyone’s name. The villager approaches, slipping his hammer into his toolbelt, and Link pulls on Patches’ reigns to stop him. “We weren’t expecting you back for a while. Come to help us out a bit?”

Link drops the reigns, picking up his hands, _sorry, no. I’m on my way to see the princess,_ he signs, knowing there’s a chance that the villager might not understand him. He rarely talks to strangers, feeling more comfortable signing to them instead. Sometimes he even has a hard time talking to Zelda. It’s actually a wonder that he was able to will himself into talking to Fi and Ghirahim when he first met them.

“Ah, I see,” the villager responds, fortunately understanding the sign language. “Princess Zelda has been quite the busy young lady. You’d better hurry before you miss her. I hear she’s planning on visiting Kakariko very soon,” he reaches over and pats Patches on the nose, causing the horse to whinny in his face. Link’s eyes widen.

 _When?_ he asks quickly. The villager shrugs, still petting Link’s horse.

“Tomorrow morning at the latest. I’d still step on it if I were you. She’s probably got a lot to do before her trip,” he suggests, and to that Link nods. He glances up at the castle in the distance, knowing that she’ll probably be there if she’s planning a trip. A good portion of it may be destroyed, but Zelda likes to split her time between helping out around the new towns and refurbishing the castle, with some public assistance, of course. The castle has been basically open to the public since the Calamity had been defeated, whether Zelda likes it or not. Some areas of the castle had been looted, something that is completely out of her control. One place that has been left alone, though, is her study, where she spends most of her free time. If she ever gets any. 

That’s where Link will look first. If she’s going to be anywhere in that castle, it’ll be her study. Hopefully he can catch her before she heads out to Kakariko. And hopefully she won’t be too surprised by his sudden return. Thanking the villager, he sets out towards the castle, Patches reluctantly galloping down the path.  
~  
The castle grounds are still a mess. Littered with deactivated guardians and spare parts, the castle grounds look like a robotic wasteland. With the immensity of the castle and surrounding area, Zelda hadn’t paid much mind to the outer appearance, rather focused on historic and personal belongings inside. Maybe one day, if they could get enough people together, they could work on hulling out the guardians and dismantling them. Robbie and Purah are always open to learning about the guardians and even taking some spare parts. They’d be more than happy to help out around the castle grounds, for research purposes of course. 

Link doesn’t spend very much time at the castle, and he wonders how Zelda could stand to step foot in it after being trapped for a hundred years. He wouldn’t say that it’s a source of trauma for him, but he definitely feels a sense of unease whenever he’s near it. Link remembers every detail of his fight with the Calamity vividly. From dodging guardian lasers on the outside and fighting monsters on the inside, to his life-changing battle from within the core of the castle, it’s the one memory he has that will never disappear. Thinking too much about what transpired gives him the chills. That’s why he needs to focus on his one objective and nothing else, and that’s to find Zelda.

Link dismounts Patches and opts not to tie him to anything, since there really isn’t much around here to tie him to. He doesn’t want to deprive his horse of grass or water either, so Link just trusts that Patches will come to him when he hears him whistle. Patting his horse a couple times, promising his return, Link steps down the path to the castle doors on foot. He takes his slow ascent as an opportunity to glance around the castle grounds. Zelda told him that this place was once a flourishing town with many colorful markets and lots of greenery. It’s hard to believe anything thrived here. It’s completed deserted, minus the dead guardians, which Link is still very wary about approaching. He hasn’t heard about a guardian attack since the Calamity was defeated, and he personally hasn’t had to take any out. He’s even gotten close to guardian stalkers, recumbent and now immobile, and hasn’t had to fight or run for his life. But that doesn’t mean he doesn’t get uncomfortable around them.

The sun is high in the sky, signaling noon, by the time Link makes it to the permanently open front doors of the castle. By know he knows exactly what path he has to take and what rubble he has to climb over in order to make it to Zelda’s study. This is a journey all its own, but it’s been made easier thanks to Zelda and the Sheikah slate. Zelda has used the features of the slate to clear a good portion of the path to her room and study, among a few other key places in the castle. It makes it easier for them to navigate, but also makes it easier at night for looters to come and take whatever they want. That’s why most of Zelda’s personal belongings—which isn’t very much at this point—are kept safe in Link’s home in Hateno. 

As Link clambers his way through the castle, he thinks about his home in Hateno, how he hasn’t visited it in a while. He’d given Zelda a key and had welcomed her to it whenever she needed a break from working. He wonders if she’s ever taken him up on that offer. He should visit his home on his brief break. It would be nice to sleep in his own bed for once, and not worry about waking up to an ambush by monsters. He likes Hateno. It’s quiet and friendly, and once of the few historical towns around Hyrule that wasn’t affected by the Calamity. In fact, one of the goals for the towns around Central Hyrule is to model it after places like Hateno and Kakariko, since they’re so long-standing and successful. 

Link thinks it’ll take him about twenty minutes to a half hour, give or take, to navigate himself through the castle to his destination. As he’s estimating in his head the logistics of his trip, his ear twitches to the sound of footsteps coming down the call ahead of him. Link pauses, gripping his hand on one of the swords—he’s not entirely sure who—and draws it slowly. He thought he’d defeated all of the monsters in the castle, but with how large it is, he could’ve easily missed a few. There _shouldn’t_ be any monsters in this well-traveled path in the castle, but anything it possible. Waiting, he stands out in the open, sword in hand as the footsteps grow louder and louder.

Rounding the corner is none other than Zelda, who carries a bag on her shoulder, indeed ready to depart for a trip. In her hands is the Sheikah slate, which is her main focus as she scrolls through it during her stride down the hall. She clearly didn’t hear Link, and her attention is focused on the slate. Link relaxes his posture and sheathes his sword on his back, and that action alone is loud enough to draw a yelp from the princess’ mouth.

“Link!” she exclaims, clearly surprised to see him as she presses a hand to her chest, likely to calm her heart down. 

Zelda cut her hair. Link doesn’t know when, probably some time after he left, but her hair is much shorter now, sitting around her shoulders. She’s wearing her fitted blue and white shirt and black pants that she had found among the ruins of her broken wardrobe. Freshly washed and mended, they look good as new. She had to have new boots made for her, Link remembered, since hers went missing. And Link had given her his Hylian hood to wear for when they travel outside, since she had not been used to the sunlight initially. She wears it all the time, even now within the shaded castle. 

“Link, what are you doing here?” her surprise shifts into confusion the longer she stares at Link. “You weren’t due back for months. Is something wrong?” she sets the slate at her hip, walking briskly up to Link, who instinctively feels himself dropping to his knee. “Oh Link, you don’t have to do that, I told you. Please, please get up and tell me what’s wrong.”

Old habits die hard, he supposes as he stands back up, immediately engulfed in a tight hug from Zelda. The princess had become… not necessarily _clingy_ , but more affectionate around Link since the end of the Calamity. It’s a huge contrast from his vague memories of one hundred years prior, when she wanted to use him as a science experiment. And an even _bigger_ contrast from when she absolutely despised him for doing his knightly duty of following her around. Link wasn’t used to the affection when it first began, but he’s come to accept it now. It’s a comfort thing for her, and it doesn’t negatively affect him in anyway. So he allows the casual embraces, if that makes the princess feel better.

When she lets go, she looks down at Link, smile on her face. “I’m glad to see that you’re alright. But you have me worried showing up out of the blue.”

 _Everything is alright, I promise,_ Link finds himself signing instead of speaking. Zelda sighs, but doesn’t say anything about the decision, instead reading his hands. _I’m taking a break, I thought I’d stop by the castle. You’re on your way to Kakariko?_

“Why, yes, I am. Not at this very moment, but soon, yes. How did you know?” she asks, hands on her hips as Link starts to sign again.

_One of the workers in a nearby construction zone told me. I don’t remember the name of the town, or if they even named it at all yet. Is that where you’re headed to first?_

“Not quite. I was on my way to Mabe to discuss leadership within the village, then to the ranch to fetch my horse. Will you join me?” she invites, a smile adorning her lips at the prospect of having company. 

Link nods, unable to refuse a request from the princess. She doesn’t have to know that he feels obligated to do so. It’s better for her to think that he accepts by his own free will. Which, for the most part is true. He’s dying to see what Mabe Village—the first village that they had started to reconstruct—looks like nowadays. If Zelda is appointing a leader, than it must be close to completion, if not already done. He knows for sure that the ranch is complete, having some of his horses boarded there for the time being, along with the white horse he had given to Zelda.

“Excellent!” Zelda says excitedly, pulling up the hood over her head. “Oh it’s so good to see you, Link. I know what you’re capable of, but I still worried myself over the idea of you setting out on your own,” she says as she starts walking again, urging Link to join her. “Or perhaps it was me who was worried about being alone. Of course I’ve made some good friends within the community during construction, so I can’t say I’ve been alo—” she stops herself short when she looks up from the ground towards Link, eyes glued to his back. “Those are some marvelous swords you have there. Unlike anything I’ve ever seen.”

Oh yes, the swords. Link almost forgot. His entire reason for coming back to the castle was to show her the swords.

Link pauses in his path, and Zelda stops a moment later, looking back at him, confused by his sudden stop. _There’s something I have to talk to you about. Or show you, rather._ Link cuts to the chase, and Zelda nods slowly.

“Yes, anything, Link. Is something the matter?” she asks him and he shakes his head.

 _Nothing. I’ll show you when we get outside,_ he answers. Zelda nods again, turning back towards the exit of the castle. Link follows behind her, just like he used to do a hundred years ago on their excursion. The knot he felt in his stomach earlier returns. He hopes that of all the things Zelda has seen, this discovery doesn’t overwhelm her.


	12. Battle Royale

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> The sword spirits demonstrate their abilities to Link and Zelda

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Sorry about the delay. Truthfully I don't have a posting schedule. I just write when I'm able to, and lately it's been difficult to find the time. I'll try to find some time this weekend to work on the next chapter! For now, enjoy a brief fight scene.

Zelda pulls the hood over her head once the two of them make it back outside. Even after nearly a year since the Calamity ended, she’s still sensitive about sunlight. Or it has just become a deep-seeded habit, Link’s unsure. He doesn’t dwell too long on her fashion choices, too caught up in his own thoughts about the spirits. One of two things is going to happen once Link tells Zelda just exactly what he has in his possession: she’ll accept them as useful assets with open arms, or she’ll ask Link to dispose of these highly powerful relics. And Link doesn’t quite want to part with them so soon.

He likes them. He liked Fi immediately after she showed her warmth. Although it took a little while, he’s opened up to Ghirahim too. He’s just not quite sure that the feeling is mutual anymore. His command still replays in his mind, how he practically demanded that Ghirahim not disclose that he’s a demon to the princess. It almost makes him feel sick to his stomach having control over these entities. He’s not meant to be in a position of power. That’s not his role to play. He wishes Ghirahim would understand the importance of his silence in this moment, because he does not want to order him around again.

Zelda turns on her heel, the motion so swift that it breaks Link away from his thoughts. He stands up straight as the princess looks at him, eyes full of concern despite Link’s earlier reassurance. “Please, tell me what’s wrong. We’ll see about fixing it together,” she smiles, clasping her hands in front of her chest. Link almost wants to laugh, but he stifles it.

_Nothing’s wrong. In fact, what I have to show you might be very useful to us,_ Link signs back, returning the smile.

“Oh? Please show me, Link. I’m quite interested.” Zelda waits patiently, hands held together and head cocked to the side as she watches Link reach for his swords. He draws them slowly, holding one in each hand as he clears his throat.

“Ghirahim? Fi? Will you come out and greet the princess, please?” His voice is a little rough from disuse for the past day and quiet due to the presence of Zelda, whom he rarely speaks in front of. Zelda continues to watch, confused but intrigued. “You… you might want to cover your eyes,” Link says to her, closing his own eyes.

Zelda does the same, glad that she listened to the suggestion when she still sees a bright light even behind closed eyelids. After a moment the blinding light had dissipated, and the sound of a high-pitched chime gathers Zelda’s attention and forces her to open her eyes. She takes a cautious step back immediately when she sees two figures kneeling before her.

“Greetings, your highness,” the taller figure on the left says, bowing his head. The one on the right does the same.

“It is an honor to serve you, Mistress,” she says, raising her head and glancing at Zelda with striking violet eyes. She gasps, taking another step back, looking up at Link with apprehension written across her features. But Link doesn’t seem worried. In fact, Zelda would venture to guess that he looks… excited?

“Link, who…” Zelda’s eyes sweep the two kneeling figures once more, taking in their inhuman skin tones. “ _What_ are they?” she dares to ask, and the taller figure almost snickers.

Link, with swords still in his hands, gestures towards the two… people…? People who appeared out of no where in a flash of light at Link’s request. Link doesn’t seem the least bit frightened by their presence. He clears his throat again. “His name is Ghirahim, and this is Fi. They’re sword spirits,” Link introduces as the two spirits remain kneeling before the princess.

“Sword spirits?” Zelda nearly gasps, covering her mouth with a tentative hand. “I’ve… I’ve read about sword spirits, but I didn’t think they actually existed. Link, are you certain?” Zelda takes yet another step back when the spirits simultaneously rise from their kneeling positions. Ghirahim’s tall stature is even more immense now that he’s standing, towering over the princess. And Fi takes her by surprise when she begins to levitate off the ground, matching Ghirahim’s impressive height.

Link nods, smiling, “why don’t you ask them yourself?” he suggests, sheathing the swords on his back.

Zelda ceases her mild retreat, still covering her mouth with her hand as she now looks up towards the two mysterious guests. Ghirahim is standing still with his hands behind his back and Fi floats carelessly, sleeves of her dress rippling in the gentle breeze. Unsure of what to say, she presses her hand to her chest and merely introduces herself. “Hello there. My name is Zelda,” she says, and Ghirahim grins.

“Oh we’re well aware, your highness,” he says, and Zelda gets an eyeful of his sharpened teeth. The princess draws back, but doesn’t take another step away, wanting to stand her ground firmly.

“I suppose you would be aware, after spending some time with Link, he might’ve told you who I am,” Zelda laughs nervously, rubbing the back of her head. “Are you truly what Link says you are? Like I’ve said, I’ve heard of sword spirits, but I thought you were only a myth. A fantasy. Do you really possess the swords that Link wields on his back?” she asks curiously.

“We do, Mistress. We’ve been the weapons at your incarnations’ disposal for thousands of years,” Fi answers, and it’s Zelda’s turn to grin.

“Oh how fascinating!” Zelda exclaims, and Link can’t help his own smile. She likes them! Perhaps she won’t request that Link return them. “Tell me, what can you do? I’ve read that sword spirits have their own unique abilities, and can manifest their own weapons for combat. Is that something you are capable of?” she asks Fi, who simply nods.

“Would you like a demonstration of our abilities, Mistress?” Fi inquires, and Zelda looks from the pair back to Link, who nods. Link has only ever seen Ghirahim fight. He’s seen Fi create a weapon, but not for combat. He, too, is curious what the spirits have in store as far as a demonstration goes.

“That would be lovely!” Zelda clasps her hands together in wonderment.

“Then I urge you to stand by Master Link where it’s safe. Not that we would ever put you in harm’s way, dearest princess,” Ghirahim bows his head again, then gestures towards Link. Zelda takes the hint and excitedly makes her way over to Link’s side, eager to see whatever the demonstration entails.

The two spirits split once Zelda is safely beside Link. They move backwards about twenty paces, facing one another. Ghirahim suddenly snaps his fingers, and in a cloud of diamonds, a black saber is produced. He runs a gloved finger along the blade of his saber, admiring the sleekness and overall beauty. Fi doesn’t put on much of a show when it comes to her weapons. Above her head, appearing out of thin air are about half a dozen knives, banded in blue and purple, much like the clothing that she’s wearing. They float above her head like a crown, pointed towards Ghirahim.

They’re positioned a reasonable distance apart, neither making a move, Ghirahim still eyeing his blade. He’s quite fond of his weapon, Link noted from their earlier fight against the tribe of bokoblins. The firm, yet gentle way he holds the hilt of his saber suggests that this has been his weapon since the beginning of his existence. It’s an extension of him, part of him, a tool that he is truly in tune with. Nothing compares to the admiration he has for the blade he possesses, however. Link will never get the image of his _cleaning_ his sword with his _tongue_ out of his head. He decides that he won’t tell Zelda about that part, and hopes that she never has to bear witness to it.

Link is snapped out of his thoughts when, in the blink of an eye, three knives whistle through the air, barreling towards Ghirahim. The taller spirit, still delicately touching the blade of his saber, appears as though he’s given no time to react, when suddenly he’s gone. Zelda gasps, clearly distraught, yet amazed by Ghirahim’s disappearance. The knives had breezed past the spot that he’d been standing in, now nothing but a few lingering and fading diamonds.

“Where did he go?” Zelda asks, looking back at Fi, who stays motionless, eyes scanning her surroundings.

“Ghirahim can teleport. It… it takes time to get used to,” Link says quietly, breath hitching when Ghirahim appears behind Fi, blade at her throat.

Fi doesn’t spare a second, curling her legs in a fetal position and delivering a swift kick to Ghirahim’s blade with the heels of her shoes, sending herself flying upwards and out of his reach. She twists gracefully in the air, looking down at her target before sending the other three knives straight to his forehead. Ghirahim ducks swiftly, the knives lodging themselves in the brick behind him. From his crouched position, he takes the opportunity to bound upwards, hand gripped tightly on the hilt of his saber as he thrusts it forward.

Link didn’t know Ghirahim could levitate like Fi. He must consciously choose to walk instead. For what reason? Link doesn’t know. Maybe he’ll ask once the fight is over.

Fi sees her opponent speeding towards her, weapon brandished and ready to deliver its blow. She quickly maneuvers out of the way, dodging the attack as she soars downwards towards the ground. Ghirahim, with all his weight, forces himself to the ground as well, back turned towards Fi. A tremendous lapse in judgement, he realizes, when his ear twitches at the sound of knives soaring through the air. Ghirahim turns on his heel, holding his saber perpendicular to his body just in time for four knives to hit his blade one by one, coming within and inch of his face and body.

Fi doesn’t spare a second after her attack, rushing towards him briskly. She quickly flips herself midair, pointed heels ready to deliver a swift kick. He doesn’t have time to react before Fi’s feet make contact with his chest, sending him backwards a few good paces. He lands on his rear, nearly dropping his saber. Fi, about to follow through, produces a handful of knives above her head, pointing them down at her opponent.

Ghirahim grits his sharpened teeth and does the only thing he can do. The knives come sailing downwards, landing once again in the bricks below as Ghirahim disappears in a _poof!_ of diamonds. Fi once again is on the defense, staying completely still as she waits for Ghirahim’s next move.

If Zelda were sitting, she’d be on the edge of her seat. After watching Ghirahim, so calculated in his attacks, succumb to such a physical blow, she knows that Fi is not one to be trifled with. She may be much smaller, and flounce around so delicately, but she’s immensely powerful, both Zelda and Link are now realizing. This is the first time Link has ever seen Fi fight, and he’s quite impressed, if not a little bit terrified of her. 

Fi floats in the center of their battlefield, still waiting, still preparing. Her wait is short-lived when a sudden weight comes crushing down on her. Zelda shouts for Fi to watch out, but it’s too late as Ghirahim appears above her, shoving her down to the earth by his elbow. Fi hits the ground hard, rolling a few paces after the impact. Ghirahim lands heavily above her, feet on either side of her as he points the tip of his blade at the center of her rapidly rising and falling chest. Fi’s still disoriented from the hit, doesn’t have a moment to spare for a counter-attack. Her violet eyes stare upwards at the grin stretched across Ghirahim’s face. 

“I think this concludes our little session,” Ghirahim says, still tightly gripping his saber, knowing better than to let his guard down. But that doesn’t mean Fi’s completely at his mercy.

Faster than either of them could blink, Fi rolls herself away from the tip of the blade and spins, leg kicked out straight as she trips Ghirahim, sending him to the ground. He loosens his grip on his saber as it clatters on the brick a few steps away from him, just out of reach. Fi’s soon standing, one foot kicking Ghirahim’s chest down until he’s lying on his back. Above her head, six knives appear, all pointing directly downward at him. Ghirahim gasps, flinching when one knife comes sailing towards him, stopping short just an inch before hitting his forehead. It hovers there, right in front of his face, and Ghirahim lets go of the breath he didn’t know he was holding. He closes his eyes briefly, before opening them and allowing that sharp-toothed grin to resurface.

“Well done. You’ve bested me once again, my dear friend,” Ghirahim’s body visibly relaxes when the knives all disappear. Fi takes her foot off of his chest and offers him her sleeve. He grabs ahold of the fabric and dusts off his pants once he’s helped up and back on his feet. With a snap of his fingers, his saber vanishes in thin air. Both spirits stare at one another, Fi with a stagnant, but somehow also satisfied look to her face, and Ghirahim with a smirk, when suddenly their attention is pulled to the side by the sound of clapping.

“Oh bravo! How wonderful!” Zelda continues to clap, green eyes wide in amazement. “That was quite a show you put on! I hardly can believe what I just witnessed! You really are sword spirits!” she clasps her hands together in front of her face, soon turning to her side. “Link! How ever did you find them? I must know how you came across these spirits!”

Link knew she was going to ask. Feeling suddenly nervous, he lifts up his hands, unable to bring himself to verbalize his answer. _I found them in a small club in Gerudo Town. Their swords just… spoke to me. The moment I saw them, I knew I had to have them. So I bought their swords. And, well, here we are._

“You _bought_ them? I would’ve imagined you’d have found them in an ancient, enchanted dungeon of some sort,” Zelda giggles at the thought. Link shrugs. That’s pretty much how he was _supposed_ to find them. Things don’t always go as planned, however. “Do tell me that you didn’t spend a fortune. Not that they’re not worth it.”

“Um…” Link, cheeks red, can’t bring himself to answer by any method. Ghirahim snickers.

“We’re apparently only worth ten thousand of your modern currency, your highness,” he shakes his head. “I disagree, of course, since I consider us quite priceless.”

Zelda turns her attention from Ghirahim to Link, mouth agape. “Ten _thousand_ rupees? Link! That was all the money I gave you!” Link knew she’d be disappointed. He knew since that very moment in Gerudo Town when he heard the price from the vai’s mouth. Link rubs the back of his head and shrugs again, looking away. “How irresponsible, Link. Just how were you planning to survive the rest of your journey without any rupees?”

_Camping. Living off the land,_ Link knows Zelda has a hard time understanding the lifestyle he’d grown accustomed to, having never stayed anywhere outside the castle or within the safety of a town until recently. _I wasn’t worried. I’ve done it before… before we fought the Calamity. I can find a way to repay you, I promise._

Zelda stares at him for a while before closing her eyes. With a heavy sigh, she pinches the bridge of her nose with her fingers. “No, Link. Don’t worry about it. Clearly this decision was difficult for you.” It really wasn’t. Link didn’t even give it any thought. He knew he had to have the swords. “And clearly, these two spirits are quite important. I mean, did you see how they fought just moments ago?” she opens her eyes again, looking a little less disappointed and a little more excited. Link’s shoulders are still shrugged, but he no longer flinches away as though he were being scolded. “Just imagine, we could eliminate Hyrule of the remaining monsters with the power they possess.”

Link’s ears perk up, and a small smile forms on his face. _That’s exactly what I thought!_ He signs frenetically, excited. Yes, this is exactly what he’d hoped for. He and Zelda were on the same page, agreeing that the sword spirits are useful assets to their plan. 

“I think that’s a wonderful idea, Link,” she smiles back at him, frustration no longer evident in her features. “I’d like to learn more about these spirits that you’ve _purchased_ ,” she giggles. “They have quite interesting personalities. Especially your friend Ghirahim.” To this, Link blushes, forcing himself to not look at the demon’s direction, knowing he’s all teeth right now without having to see it. “Why don’t you join me on my trip to Kakariko? Truthfully, I’d like Impa to meet the spirits as well.”

Link sees no harm in that. He’s met Impa before, apparently having known her really well a hundred years ago as they fought together, and he likes whatever insight she has to give. And truthfully, he could use a break from the constant monster hoards. Kakariko is a nice village and is safe within the mountains. Link nods, more than eager to accompany Zelda on her trip. Zelda smiles, turning towards the spirits.

“Would you mind joining us on the road to Kakariko village? There’s somebody I’d like you to meet. And I’d really love to get to know you two,” Zelda asks hopefully, blissfully unaware that the spirits are quite literally at her mercy, since she’s both the princess and their rightful Master.

“Of course, Mistress,” Fi bows her head, and Ghirahim joins her.

“Anything you request, your highness,” he says, hand pressed to his chest. Zelda smiles wider, delighted.

“Very well! We’ll set out shortly!” she says, turning back towards Link. “We just have to make a small stop at Mabe village to oversee some final touches, and then visit the ranch to fetch my horse.” Her smile disappears as a thought comes to mind. She glances quickly around her surroundings, realizing the environment is barren save for the four of them. “Link, didn’t you take a horse with you when you set out on your journey? Where is he?” she asks, and Link shrugs.

_I don’t know,_ he starts to sign, _I let him go in the grass somewhere before I entered the castle grounds. He’ll come when I whistle for him. Probably._

“Link!” Zelda exclaims, “once again, so irresponsible.” She shakes her head, but can’t help the doting expression on her face. “Come now, let’s hope your horse hasn’t wandered off too far.” With that, Zelda takes the lead, walking down the winding path away from the castle with Link at her side and the two sword spirits trailing behind them.


	13. Mabe Village

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Zelda has some questions for Fi and Ghirahim. Link and Zelda establish leadership in a newly-built town.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Sorry for the delay. This chapter was hard to write. Probably because nothing significant really happens. It's sort of a filler chapter to get them from one place to another.

Fi and Ghirahim never returned to their swords, instead journeying on foot with Link and Zelda and answering every question that the princess had. And she has a lot of questions. How long have you been the spirits of these swords? How many incarnations of ours have you aided? What kind of battles have you been a part of? Have you ever lost a battle, or have you always been victorious? Why do you refer to myself and Link as your Masters?

Link knew some of the answers to these questions, so he occasionally chimed in with a response. But for the most part, he stayed silent and let Zelda get to know the spirits. Zelda simply wanted to know everything there was to know about her new companions, and the two were happy to oblige and offer their helpful replies. 

“Well, princess, you and Master Link bear the triforce of wisdom and courage,” Ghirahim had begun to answer her most recent question. By now they were almost off castle grounds, the green grass of Hyrule Field slowly coming into view. “We’re bound to the bearers of the triforce. We have no choice but to be at your command.”

“Fascinating,” Zelda rubs her chin, lost in thought, no doubt thinking up another question. “What about the triforce of power? Surely you don’t serve the power bearer as well?” Not that she, or anybody, knows who that might be. Some say it was Calamity Ganon, but there are dubious thoughts in the princess’ mind that it ever had a human form to begin with. 

“We’ve never fallen into the hands of the power bearer,” Fi speaks up, “we aren’t exactly sure what would happen, but we are likely bound to serve whomever brandishes the triforce of power as well.”

Zelda frowns. “That’s unsettling.” She finds herself staring at the ground before her, clearly concerned.

“Fear not, your highness,” Ghirahim says with a smirk, “we’ve yet to fall into the wrong hands. We’ve always been at the side of your past incarnations. You need not worry about our immense power being used against you. Besides, in this age, especially with your evil already defeated, there is no power bearer to contend with.” Ghirahim walks with his hands behind his back, standing tall and confidently, which reassures Zelda a fair amount.

“I suppose that’s true,” she says with a smile. “The both of you are very insightful. I’m to guess that it comes with your age and experience.”

“Indeed it does, your highness.”

Link couldn’t be happier right now. Zelda seems absolutely thrilled by his discovery and proposition. She can’t get enough of the sword spirits, either. She hangs on every word they say, simply begging for more information. She’s always been driven to learn, and Link just served her an opportunity to learn on a silver platter. She wasn’t even that fearful of the sword spirits at first, unlike Link. But Link’s calm demeanor at the time must’ve reassured her to the point where she knew not to be afraid of the spirits. Or perhaps, naturally, her curiosity overpowers her fear. Maybe she should’ve bore the triforce of courage instead, Link thinks.

All in all, Link is thrilled about how the introduction to the spirits had gone. Not only is Zelda utterly astounded by them, but she sees the same potential in them that Link sees. They’ll have Hyrule eliminated of monsters in no time. Now that there’s no Calamity, the blood moon does not resurrect any of the monsters that have been slaughtered. Somehow, though, bokoblins still seem to populate the lands, no matter how many have been killed. Link isn’t sure if they’re an exception, and are being brought back by the blood moon, or if they’re somehow spawning someway else. All he knows is that they’re pests that need to be destroyed, and Link now has just the tools for the job. 

By now, the four of them are nearly off of castle grounds and back out in the field. This field was once home to several guardian stalkers, and was therefore only inhabited by monsters. Now the stalkers are all deactivated, some taken apart for scraps, while most just sit as abandoned husks out in the open field, no use to anybody any longer. People tend to steer clear of the dead guardians, even though they’re no longer activated. There’s still the lingering fear that they’ll come back to life and begin their rampage anew. Link doesn’t blame anybody for fearing the guardians. He, himself, is truthfully terrified of them, despite the amount that he’s fought. It was a guardian that nearly took his life, after all. A guardian was the reason he was sent to the shrine of resurrection, and is the reason he slept for one hundred years. Which is why Link even steers clear of the dead stalkers, even though he knows better than anyone else that they cannot harm anyone any longer.

“Well Link,” Zelda grabs his attention by speaking his name, and he turns sharply towards her, having not intended to get lost in his thoughts like so. “I see no signs of your horse. Honestly, Link, what did you think was going to happen if you left your horse behind, untethered?” she scolds, crossing her arms over her chest. Ghirahim stands behind her, snickering as Link throws on a pout.

Link raises up his hands. _He’s a good horse._ That’s all Link says before he brings two fingers to his mouth and whistles loudly, the sound echoing off of the vast hills of Hyrule field. Link then stands patiently, scanning the field slowly from side to side, waiting.

The four of them wait in silence for a moment, anticipating the arrival of the horse. When nothing happens after a few minutes, Zelda sighs, reaching for her Sheikah slate. “I’m sorry, Link. We’ll find a new steed for you to ride. I’m sure someone at the ranch can spare you one, so long as you promise not to lose it. Come now, we need to head southeast towards—” Zelda stops herself when she hears a whinny from across the field.

Bounding up and over a nearby hill comes Patches, Link’s beloved horse, who heard him whistle moments ago. The horse gallops towards them, slowing down to a gentle trot, and eventually stopping a few feet before them. Zelda’s mouth is still open, her words caught on her tongue as Link looks over at her with a smirk.

“Don’t look at my like that,” Zelda hangs the slate back onto her belt, trying not to laugh when Link wiggles his eyebrows. “Fine, fine. You’re right. He’s a good horse. Now shall we?” she gestures towards the horse, and Link keeps his triumphant smirk, soon turning towards the spirits.

_We’ll be seeing some people in a nearby village. Maybe it’s best that you retreat into your swords,_ he signs. Ghirahim bows.

“I couldn’t agree more, Master,” he says whilst raising his hand, snapping his fingers and disappearing back into his sword as quickly as he appeared. Fi says nothing, instead following Ghirahim’s lead and vanishing in a flash of light. Zelda shields her eyes, and by the time the light is gone, so is Fi. Link can feel the extra weight of his swords on his back once more.

“I’m truly amazed by your companions, Link. What a discovery!” Zelda says as Link guides her to the near side of Patches, helping her mount him. “Can they still hear us? I assume they can, given that they heard you request that they exit the swords back at the castle.”

Link nods. _They even respond. The make noises from within their swords if you talk to them._

“Incredible!” Zelda says with a big smile on her face, scooting forward in the saddle when Link climbs on behind her. He figures that Zelda knows the terrain of Hyrule field better than he does, and knows the best route to their destination, so it only makes sense that she leads the way. Once situated onto Link’s now-grumpy horse, the two of them set off southeast towards the village that they had helped construct.  
~  
“The princess and her knight are here!” The two of them hear someone shout as Patches’ hooves make contact with the gravel roads of the small, yet well-built village. The main road of the village consists of about twenty buildings, ten on each side, with a few smaller buildings behind them, scattered across the hills. All of the buildings are made of the same material, courtesy of Bolson construction, and are joined together by gravel roads. Further south of the village is the ranch where Zelda keeps her horse. 

Some of the buildings on the main road are shops, with some market stands selling fresh produce in the storefronts. The remaining buildings are housing, and Zelda is more than delighted to report that every single home that they built in Mabe village is now occupied. A lot of the homes were filled by the very people who helped build them, while some previously homeless people were granted a chance at housing by the princess. This is the ultimate goal for the demolished villages around Central Hyrule—to rebuild and help house people who need places to live.

The two of them are greeted by the very Hylian that Zelda is to appoint as mayor. She needs all the help she can get when it comes to leading Hyrule. Since day one of construction, it was this man who took charge of overseeing that everything got done safely, and in a timely manner. “Princess, to what do I owe the pleasure of your visit?” he asks as Zelda slows their horse to a stop. 

With a smile on her face, Zelda says, “Oh Tohe, I think you know why I’m here.” Zelda moves to dismount the horse, accepting assistance from the Hylian, Tohe. Once her feet are on the ground, she’s nearly eye level with him, Tohe having a couple inches on her. He’s a middle-aged, well-built man with dark skin, black hair, and brown eyes. An average-looking Hylian, but a tremendous friend that Zelda has come to know.

“I don’t want to be presumptuous, your highness, but I think I know. Why don’t you join me in the town hall? Your knight is welcome to follow,” he holds out his hand for Zelda to take.

“Link, would you mind joining us? You don’t have to, of course,” Zelda offers, and Link merely shakes his head.

_I’ll stay out here and take a walk around town,_ he says, scooting forward in his saddle so he could take hold of the reigns. 

“Suit yourself,” Zelda shrugs, then takes hold of Tohe’s hand, walking towards the large building amongst all the other smaller establishments. Link watches her walk off, making sure she’s safely in the building before he sets off slowly down the road, waving to the villagers who acknowledge him. It’s about ten minutes after Zelda had left that Link decides to dismount his horse and just wait for her outside of the building. 

The village is a pretty sight, and all of the people are nice to him and super grateful for his help, but he doesn’t feel very comfortable taking compliments and praises. Zelda is more suited for the spotlight than he is, which is why he opts to just hang out in the shadows until she’s ready to leave. He wishes he had the company of Fi and Ghirahim, but he knows better than to ask for their presence in the middle of town. The villagers have seen enough monsters and guardians; they don’t need to see two mystical sword spirits.

Another ten minutes pass and Zelda finally emerges from the building, shaking hands with Tohe as they converse. Link hears her ask if he’d like her to make the announcement, and Tohe giddily accepts. Link moves forward from the building he’d been leaning against, watching as Zelda clears her throat and takes a step up onto the small podium in front of the large building that serves as the town hall. “Attention, all who are available. I’d like to make an announcement,” Zelda calls out to the passing villagers. Some stop doing what they’re doing, while some retreat to gather some folks on the outskirts who can’t hear the princess from where she’s standing. After a few moments, at least twenty people are gathered around her, with a few more beginning to join at the edge of the crowd. “Thank you for joining me. I’d like to declare that Mabe Village is officially finished with construction, and after much deliberation, I’ve decided to appoint an honest worker, and a true leader, as your mayor. I hope all of you can agree that I’ve made the right decision to appoint none other than Tohe as your village’s leader. I cannot do everything myself, which is why he will be taking charge and overseeing that the town flourishes henceforth. Please, welcome Tohe as your mayor,” Zelda steps aside afterwards, allowing Tohe to take the stand and bask in the applause from the villagers.

“Thank you, princess. I promise to do my very best by you, and see that our new little village continues to grow and prosper. Thank you, princess. For all of your help,” Tohe says honestly, turning his attention towards Link, who thought he could go unnoticed on the side of the crowd. “And thank you, young Link, for all of the effort you put in at the princess’ side. We wouldn’t be here today without everything you’ve done for us. So please, another round of applause for the princess and her knight,” Tohe begins clapping, soon joined by the crowd, who all turn towards Link. The young Hylian’s cheeks turn red from the attention, and he tries his best to accept it with a nervous wave, just praying for it to all end.

Zelda must sense his discomfort, because she’s quick to take the stand again, sharing the small platform with Tohe. “Link and I will be venturing off towards Kakariko for a few days. Please send word of any distress our way and we will turn around and provide aid. Hopefully, though, you shouldn’t need it. Not in this peaceful time in which we are blessed to live in,” Zelda waves to the crowd once more, announcing her departure. “Farewell, Mabe. We will check in again shortly.” With that, Zelda steps down from the platform and makes her way through the crowd towards Link and his horse. Link, grateful to no longer have the attention on him, helps Zelda onto Patches’ saddle, soon mounting his horse behind her.

The ride to the ranch isn’t very long, just about five minutes at a decent trot. Zelda is eager to get to her horse, having not ridden him in such a long time. It’s the only white horse in the whole stable, captured by Link and gifted to Zelda as a remembrance for her horse one hundred years ago, a horse that she loved dearly. This horse, however, isn’t outfitted with royal gear like her previous steed had been, instead wearing a typical saddle and bridle that’s seen among several travelers’ horses. Zelda doesn’t need anything fancy to signify how special her horse is. She loves him all the same. Except, she can’t quite come up with a name for her gorgeous white stallion.

“There you are, my sweetheart. I’ve missed you,” Zelda says once they’re in his stall, petting his nose as one of the stable workers saddles him. Link leans against the stall door, clearing his throat to capture her attention.

_Name?_ he asks, and Zelda shakes her head.

“Sadly, nothing yet. I just can’t think of a name that suits this beautiful brute. I’ve taken to calling him my sweetheart, though it seems rather silly, doesn’t it?” Zelda takes a step back when one of the stable workers approaches with the bridle, allowing him room to put the bit into the white horse’s mouth.

_Sweetheart is a good name,_ Link signs with a small, encouraging smile on his face. Zelda smiles back, rubbing her arm.

“I suppose so. It’s definitely unique for his like, wouldn’t you say?” To this, Link nods.

_Patches and Sweetheart. The dream team._

This gets a small giggle out of Zelda. “You’re too funny, Link,” she says, turning her attention back to the stable workers when they both let her know that her horse is ready to go. “Thank you very much,” she says gratefully, accepting their assistance when they help her mount her horse. Link then takes over, grabbing the reigns and walking the horse outside to where Patches is tied up. Once their destination is reached, Link flips the reigns over Sweetheart’s head and into Zelda’s hands before moving to untie Patches. “Well Link, it’s about a day and a half walk to Kakariko. Are you ready?” Zelda asks as Link mounts his own horse, bringing him towards Zelda’s side.

_Yes. And I’ve got some snacks if we’re hungry on the way._

“Always thinking ahead, I like that,” Zelda pulls her horse’s reigns in the right direction. “Well, shall we?” she asks, and Link nods, following behind her on the trail towards Kakariko Village.


	14. Kakariko Village

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Link and Zelda reunite with Impa

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> AO3 likes to fuck me over and not italicize things that I want italicized.

It’s late evening by the time they make it to Dualling Peaks Stable. The sun had just dipped below the horizon, and Zelda’s not very comfortable traveling in the dark. She decides to call it a night and board the horses, buying a bed for herself and Link at the stable.

_Sorry I spent all of the money you gave me,_ Link signs to Zelda as he takes a seat on his bed for the night. Zelda pauses from fluffing up her pillow.

“Oh Link, I know I seemed upset about it at first, but I promise that you don’t have to worry,” she starts, shrugging her head into one shoulder. “I mean, yes, it was quite a lot of money. But, it was well spent, right?” she gestures towards the sword hilts peeking out from behind Link’s back.

_Right._ Link smiles at his dear friend.

Zelda motions to lay down, but a sudden rumble in her stomach forces her to stay seated. Cheeks red, she turns back to Link, hoping that he hadn’t heard how loud the rumble was. She cringes when she sees Link staring at her, mouth a small O shape. “Quit staring, Link,” she tries to wave him off, holding her stomach when another rumble sounds. “It occurs to me that I’ve been so busy today that I’ve forgotten to eat.”

_I got deer jerky,_ Link offers, and Zelda scrunches her nose at the thought. _Or not._

“Sorry, I just don’t think I can stomach deer jerky,” Zelda apologizes. Link signs a “no worries” back at her, rising up from his mattress and glancing around the stable. “What are you looking for?” Zelda asks, trying to follow his line of sight. He stops, suddenly, eyes focused on a man with an enormous backpack sitting on the floor amongst the beds. 

_Can I borrow twenty rupees?_ Link asks Zelda, who tentatively reaches into her belt pouch, pulling out a small red rupee.

“Sure, but why?” she asks, handing the rupee over to Link, who doesn’t say anything as he meanders towards the sleeping man. Zelda watches Link approach the man, disrupting his sleep with a sudden introduction. From where she’s seated she can’t really hear what they’re saying, but she can see the man lower a tray down from his backpack, laying out some wares. Oh, so Link recognized a merchant, she observes. She wonders what the merchant could possibly be carrying on him. Anything, by the looks of the backpack.

Link shakes hands with the merchant, returning to Zelda with one armful of Hylian rice and various mushrooms. Zelda cocks her head to the side, curious, as Link tries his best to sign _there’s a cooking pot outside. I’ll go check if it’s unoccupied. Give me a couple minutes._ Link doesn’t wait for an answer, excitedly turning on his heel and heading out towards the pre-lit cooking pot.

Zelda waits, anticipating whatever Link is going to make for her. He certainly loves cooking, and Zelda loves to eat his cooking. She hopes whatever he’s making is better than deer jerky, though. He has the ability to make anything taste good, save for a few dubious meals he’s accidentally concocted. It helps that he has a pretty versatile palate, and is quite willing to eat anything. Zelda wonders if she should remind like about the time Daruk got him to eat a rock.

Giggling at the thought, Zelda tries to make herself comfortable in the less-than-cozy bed, knowing that it’s going to be at least a few minutes before Link returns. She might as well use those few minutes for sleep.  
~  
“Zelda.” 

The princess is nearly shocked out of her sleep when she hears Link say her name. She sits bolt upright, surprising him into taking a step back. He gently shushes her, trying to relax her and avoid a panic attack.

“Wha— Link? Oh my, how long was I asleep?” she looks around, taking note that the stable seems no different than before she closed her eyes. Some patrons are still sitting at the small table, talking, while others are in their own beds, sleeping. No one pays any attention to Zelda and her outburst. Link rubs the back of his head, shrugging.

_Twenty minutes at least. Someone was using the cooking pot, and then I needed to make the mushrooms rice balls,_ Link says, presenting Zelda with one of the rice balls. He smiles when she slowly takes it, sniffing it before taking a small bite.

“Oh Link,” she nearly swoons, “this is delicious! As usual, your cooking is some of the best I’ve ever had.” She takes a bigger bite, making her way through the rice ball. Link lets out a small laugh, sitting back on his bed.

_I’m glad you like it. I made a couple of them,_ he says, taking a bite of his own rice ball. The two eat in silence, Zelda taking a second serving before she decides to call it quits. Not wanting them to go bad, Link eats the remaining two, more than satisfied.

The two of them decide it’s probably best to get ready for bed, Zelda tired from the day’s activities and Link tired from not sleeping in a proper bed for the past few days. Zelda’s the first to settle under the covers in her bed, facing Link, sleepily watching as he takes the swords off of his back and gently lays them onto the bed beside him. Zelda cocks an eyebrow.

“You’re going to sleep with your swords in the bed?” Zelda asks, stifling a yawn. Link, in the middle of taking off his boots, pauses, eyes wide.

_You do not want to set Ghirahim on the ground. Trust me, _he signs frenetically, shaking his head to drive the point home.__

__“Something tells me you’ve learned a lesson,” Zelda says as Link starts to nod instead, forcing a soft giggle out of the princess. “I believe you, I believe you,” she waves him off, this time letting out a big yawn. “Well I hope you three sleep well tonight. I’ll see you in the morning.”  
~  
The two young Hylians and their swords are well on their way to Kakariko the following morning, well-rested and ready to go. Zelda is particularly chatty this morning, talking about the work in the villages that she’d gotten done while Link was away. And Link is more than happy to just listen to what she has to say. He likes hearing Zelda talk. She’s enthusiastic, and truthfully adorable when she really immerses herself into her stories and explanations. _ _

__Sometimes Link zones out when she’s really talking, though. It doesn’t help that he usually has a lot on his mind. He remembers traveling with her before the Calamity, listening to her ramble on about her favorite subjects, and share with him certain topics. She spoke so fast at the time—and still does – that Link had a hard time keeping up with what she’s saying. His mind reels, and sometimes he has questions, but doesn’t want to interrupt, not Zelda ever really leaves any room for such a chance anyway. She jumps from point to point so quickly that Link can never really keep up, and thus his mind wanders, tuning her out like background noise until something reels him back in._ _

__“And really, Bolson had been right all along about the direction the buildings should face. Because of the wind, you know.” Link doesn’t know what about this topic that draws his attention in, but suddenly he’s back, looking towards Zelda and nodding, trying to prove that he’d been listening. “The wind blows west from Hebra and it’s just more practical to have the buildings face the east, you know?”_ _

__“Mmhmm,” Link hums, nodding. Zelda looks at him small smirk on her face._ _

__“You did it again. You spaced out. Honestly, Link, am I that boring?”_ _

__“Wha—? How did you—? No! You’re not!” Link finds his voice, slightly high-pitched and defensive as he tries his hardest not to blush. His ears turn downward as Zelda giggles at him._ _

__“It’s okay, Link. You’re probably so used to hearing me prattle on about construction. It’s honestly all that I have to look forward to these days. Fi and Ghirahim are the most exciting things that have happened to me in months!” her grin fades when she hears a small chime coming from Link’s back. The realization hits her suddenly when she remembers what Link had told her about the swords. “I forgot that they could hear what we’re saying,” she says, glancing over at the swords again. “Oh Link, don’t you think the spirits could come out and keep us company? I’d love to talk with them some more.”_ _

__Link nods. “All you have to do is ask. I’d stop the horses, though. They might get spooked,” he says, pulling on the reigns of his horse to stop him. Zelda does the same to her horse, and once they’re both stopped, Link looks over his shoulder towards the swords. “Fi? Ghirahim? Would you join us, please?” Link then motions for Zelda to shut her eyes, as to not be blinded by Fi’s light. One flash and one chime later, the two spirits appear from behind the halted horses. Zelda looks behind her, wide smile on her face when she sees both spirits bowing._ _

__“Masters,” Ghirahim says, standing up straight. Fi’s feet leave the ground in their usual fashion, levitating off the ground at eye level with Ghirahim. “How may we serve you?”_ _

__“Oh stop. I just want to talk to you two. I feel like we didn’t have much time before we were amongst other people,” Zelda says as Ghirahim walks over towards her side. Fi follows, floating between the two horses. Luckily neither of the horses are alarmed by the new presences, especially Patches, who is already used to the sight of them._ _

__“Certainly, your highness. Anything in particular?” Ghirahim asks, walking in step with the horses once they begin moving again. Zelda almost offers to let Ghirahim ride with her, but with his long legs, he doesn’t seem to have any problem keeping up with the horses’ gentle steps._ _

__“Well, I think I’d like to know more about your magic. How you can conjure swords… oh! And how you can teleport! I know the Sheikah can do it! Do you know anything about Sheikah magic? Is it similar to your magic? Oh, I’m sorry, one question at a time, I suppose,” Zelda coves her mouth with her hand, and Ghirahim simply waves her off._ _

__“That’s quite alright. I’m more than used to mortals being in awe at my abilities,” he says, and Link rolls his eyes. “My magic is unique to me. Same with Fi. I truthfully don’t know much about the Sheikah, other than their magic and fighting style are very similar to ours. As for teleporting, I’m a master of the craft. If you’d like, I can transport all four of us, plus the horses, to your destination without so much as breaking a sweat! I’d like to see your Sheikah do that,” he grins, crossing his arms over his chest as he eyes the princess, who taps the slate on her belt._ _

__“Actually, with their technology, we can do the same thing,” she counters his grin, watching it fade from his face and turn into confusion._ _

__“Forgive me for asking then princess, but why are you making this journey on foot rather than using your technology to transport you instantaneously?” he asks with genuine curiosity. Link wrinkles his brow at the question._ _

__“Yeah,” he speaks up, catching Zelda’s nervous attention. “Why _are_ we walking instead of using the Sheikah slate to fast travel?” he asks, cocking his head. When the slate was in his possession, he fast traveled all the time. By the time he had unlocked all of the shrines, he was able to get around Hyrule in record time._ _

__Zelda’s cheeks redden at the question. Rubbing the back of her neck, she clears her throat and says, “I somehow, may have, sort of, broken the feature,” she says quietly, and Link leans towards her, cupping a hand around his ear, unable to hear her. She sighs. “I messed around with the slate so much that I somehow locked the fast travel option. We may have to visit Purah in Hateno to have it fixed. But I honestly didn’t think it was so bad. I like traveling on foot! I get to see the sights, appreciate the scenery, all that! Who cares if we can’t fast travel to Kakariko?”_ _

__“I care. Fast traveling is cool,” Link argues, and if Zelda could throw anything at him, she would._ _

__“Oh stop. We’ll fix it. Besides, we should probably visit your house, Link. I’ve tried to keep it tidy while you were away but dust just collects over everything. Another reason why it wouldn’t be a bad idea to go to Hateno,” she says, finality in her tone._ _

__“So the Sheikah have developed technology to teleport. That is utterly fascinating that mere mortals are able to do so without magic,” Ghirahim muses. “I must say, I’m interested in meeting the Sheikah of your time. They seem a lot more versatile than the past generations.”_ _

__“You’ve seen other Sheikah in your lifetime?” Zelda asks and Ghirahim gives a haughty nod. “Have they always served the royal family?”_ _

__“Usually. The very fist generation of Sheikah served the goddess directly. I’ll admit to have butted heads with Impa when I served—” Ghirahim stops himself short, unable to finish the sentence. His previous order, to not talk about his history as a demon, resurfaces, forcing him to silence himself. Fortunately, Zelda is too caught up by the name than the fact that he physically cannot complete his sentence._ _

__“Another Impa?! Oh you must tell _our_ Impa all about her! She’ll be so fascinated! I know I am!” she says with excitement, unbeknownst to her, giving Ghirahim a command._ _

__“Yes, your highness,” he nods, looking over at Link, who has his eyes narrowed in his direction. Ghirahim then looks away, avoiding eye contact with his disgruntled Master. Surely Link will forgive him for coming close to his confession._ _

__Zelda doesn’t seem to notice anything off, too enthralled by the prospect of another Impa, her dear friend, existing in a past life or two. It appears that Zelda knows less about the Sheikah than she thought. They’re a secretive bunch, but she thought that being so close to Impa, and being the princess no less, would grant her some information on their history and culture. Perhaps she’d been wrong. Still, she’s curious as to how Impa would react to knowing that her name had been passed down for so long, since the existence of the goddess Hylia._ _

__“Oh look,” Zelda points ahead of them. They’d been traveling long enough that the vast mountains that surround Kakariko Village were starting to come into view. “We’re almost there.”_ _

__“I estimate a seventy percent chance that we will start to see people traveling from the village momentarily. Shall we retreat to our swords, Mistress?” Fi speaks up for the first time, floating upwards until she is level with Zelda._ _

__“Aww, but you guys just came out,” she throws on a pout, dropping her head down. “I suppose so. We wouldn’t want to frighten anybody.” She glances from both Fi to Ghirahim, who both nod. Ghirahim raises his hand to snap his fingers as Fi starts to dissipate into a flash of light. When they’re both gone, Zelda looks at Link, sighing. “I hardly ever get to talk to them. They’re both so exciting, I just want to learn more about them!”_ _

___"There will be plenty of opportunities to get to know them, I’m sure. Let’s just focus on getting to the village,"_ Link says, and Zelda can’t help but to nod her head._ _

__“I suppose you’re right,” she says, a small smile forming on her face. “Well, we’re almost there. Would you like to see who could get there quicker?” she asks, giggling when Link snorts._ _

____"No, because we both know your horse is faste— Hey!” Link cries out when Zelda double kicks her horse and takes off sprinting, not waiting for him to finish. Delivering his own double kick, he tries desperately to chase after her, watching her and her horse get smaller and smaller in the distance as he and Patches desperately try to keep up.__  
~  
__Zelda’s already dismounted from her horse and tying him to a post by the time Link finally reaches her. They’re at the hidden entrance of Kakariko Village, sidled by two cliffs that formed from the mountains on either side of them. Patches is nearly panting from exerting himself so much. A smirk forms on Zelda’s face when Link brings Patches to a stop, dismounting him and tying him next to Sweetheart. _Not cool,_ he signs aggressively, and Zelda giggles. 

__

__

__“We got here quicker, didn’t we? Now come on! I haven’t seen Impa in ages!” she grabs Link by the sleeve, tugging him along with her into the welcoming village._ _

__As they pass some villagers and travelers, friendly and excited greetings are thrown their way, people more than happy to see the princess and the hero. Link always liked Kakariko. The villagers are always accommodating, the scenery itself is beautiful, and the village is quaint and hidden away in a lovely part of the country. Hateno is a sight, of course, but it doesn’t compare to Kakariko. Link used to spend a lot of time here, simply hanging out and helping out villagers with whatever they needed. Plus, this is where he met his first great fairy._ _

__Zelda eventually lets go of Link’s arm when she slows down to take in the sights and the people herself. The two of them walk side by side down the path, making their way towards the large building at the end of the road, the very building where Impa lives with her granddaughter, Paya._ _

__“Don’t make eye contact with Paya. You know how flustered she gets around you,” Zelda says when they approach the steps to the building, seeing the young Sheikah sweeping the floorboards up by the front door._ _

__“Me? She’s got a big crush on _you_ ,” Link says quietly. The guards at the end of the staircase part when they recognize the pair as the princess and her knight. Zelda gives a quiet “thank you” before turning towards Link, exasperated._ _

__“ _Me?_ It’s _you_!” she whispers back as they both ascend the stairs, attention drawn to young Paya, who nearly yelps when the two of them make it to the top step._ _

__“P-Princess! I, we—we weren’t anticipating you until later today! Oh I’m so sorry, the place is a mess, I—oh, Link! You brought Link! Oh, I—” Paya stammers, ears turned downwards and cheeks beet-red as she looks back and forth between the blondes._ _

__“Maybe it’s both of us,” Zelda mumbles quietly to Link, who stifles a small laugh._ _

__“Huh?” Paya asks, gripping the broom tightly, sweat starting the bead on her forehead._ _

__“Nothing, Paya. Is Impa home?” Zelda asks, and Paya gives a tentative nod, lips quivering as she tries to calm herself down._ _

__“Sh-she’s inside. Please! Let me get the door for you, princess!” Paya stops Zelda in her tracks when she reaches for the handle of the door. The young Sheikah rushes to the door, opening it swiftly for her two guests. Zelda thanks her and Link smiles, and Paya hides her flustered face in shame as she looks away from the two of them, holding the door wide open._ _

__The small room feels cozy and warm compared to the chill coming from the mountain breeze outside. All along the walls of the room are pictures and portraits, giving off a homey, comforting vibe. Several trinkets line the shelves and end tables of the room as well. Seated directly in front of them amongst all of the belongings is Zelda’s dearest, elderly friend, Impa._ _

__The door shuts behind them, and Zelda finds herself kneeling down in front of Impa, respectively, with Link soon following. The elderly woman has said nothing about their arrival, hasn’t opened her eyes yet. Link isn’t even convinced that she’s awake until he sees her draw in a deep breath._ _

__Her eyes open suddenly, glancing between Zelda and Link until her gaze narrows in on the swords peeking from Link’s back._ _

__“There’s a demon among us.”_ _


	15. Demon

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Link gets caught in a very uncomfortable situation as Zelda and Impa corner him for answers. Ghirahim makes things worse.

Link can feel the blood draining from his face, leaving him ghostly pale.

Impa’s staring at him. Well, staring _past_ him, rather, at the hilt of the blade strapped to his back. Link can hardly bring himself to breathe at the sight of the older woman’s ice cold stare. His heart thrums loudly in his ears, and there’s a lump in his throat that he can’t quite swallow.

It’s silent in the room, Zelda looking confusedly between Impa and whatever Impa is staring at, which so happens to be Link’s direction. The princess finds her feet beneath her, standing tall beside her still-kneeling companion. Link can’t seem to make the same movement, stuck in the position he put himself in, a position that makes him feel like the smallest person in the room.

“A demon?” Zelda breaks the chilling silence, looking back towards her dearest friend, “Impa, are you sure? What makes you say so?” she asks, clasping her fingers together and twiddling her thumbs nervously.

“I detect a dark presence in the room,” Impa answers pointedly, “demonic energy. Something I haven’t sensed in a long time.”

Zelda still seems perplexed as she glances around the room, eyeing Link once more, since Impa is still staring at his direction. “There’s nobody here but us. When did you notice the presence of a demon? When we walked in?” Zelda brings her knuckle to her mouth, trying to hide the concerned expression on her face. Impa breaks from her intense stare to look towards Zelda, wanting to comfort her with a lie. But the truth of the matter was that they were dealing with something dangerous here.

“I’m afraid so. And I believe I know where the demon is being housed,” Impa says, eyes shooting back towards Link, who tries to suppress a shudder. “Demon, come out of your vessel and show yourself,” Impa commands sternly, pointing beyond Link to the sword peeking out from behind his back.

This time Link does jump, just every so slightly out of his skin, not expecting the boom in old lady Impa’s voice. Silence ensues thereafter as the room remains motionless. Link still kneels on the floor, too stunned to move as Zelda’s eyes dart back and forth between her two friends. Moments after Impa had voiced her command and nothing has happened, leaving the princess more confused and more worried than she had been before.

“Impa—”

“Link,” Impa interrupts Zelda, voice strong and unwavering. This isn’t the kind elderly lady that Link has grown to know, and she most certainly isn’t the same beloved friend of Zelda’s. Not when she’s this serious. “I am to guess that the demon obeys your word—don’t look at me like that, you know what I’m talking about. Have the demon show its face.”

Link feels his throat tighten, as though it’s physically impossible for him to speak. His mouth opens but no words come out. He can’t even bring himself to sign an explanation for himself, too focused on breathing.

“Link? Do you know what she’s talking about?” Zelda asks, knuckle still by her mouth, fingernails pressing into her lip as she tries not to seem as nervous as she actually is. 

It’s overwhelming, the staring, the pressure, the weight of the swords on his back. It’s too much, and he doesn’t know what to do. 

“Link… is she talking about the spirits?” To this, Link shoots his gaze towards her, mouth opening again to form words. But nothing comes out. It seems to be all the answer that Zelda needs. She lowers her hand, balling it into a fist as she turns her body towards Link, eyeing the swords. “Spirits, please come out. We’ve a guest that I’d like you to meet,” Zelda says with a hint of fire in her tone, somewhat hesitant to make her request. Impa couldn’t possibly be referring to the spirits, could she?

It's mere seconds later that the room fills with a blinding light, the shape of a human materializing in the air. Soon to follow is a loud chime, then flecks of diamonds making up the second mystical form until both spirits are present and opaque, kneeling obediently in front of princess Zelda at her request. Zelda doesn’t miss the swift side-eyed glare that Ghirahim shoots Impa.

The elderly woman doesn’t move from her seat, doesn’t flinch at the sight of the spirits in her room. She sits up straight, showing off a strong, confident Sheikah woman. A determined woman who doesn’t back out of the staring contest with the taller spirit.

“Ghirahim,” she says, and Link’s lips part in shock.

Sharpened teeth are revealed as white lips are pulled into a furtive grin. “Lady Impa.”

Now Link’s jaw is dropped as he watches Ghirahim bow his head respectively. Fi mirrors him, clearly not feeling the tension in the room. Zelda does, and she’s quick to draw her attention back to Impa.

“You know who he is?” she asks feverishly. Impa doesn’t break her stare with the spirit, eyes narrowed on his toothy grin.

“I know _what_ he is,” Impa speaks clearly, coldly. “An ancient evil, his deeds have been shared amongst my ancestors for generations. As a warning, mind you, should he ever return. Oh, I know what he is. And Link does too.”

Link swallows the hard lump in his throat when Impa blindly points a finger at him. He can feel beads of sweat on his forehead, starting to travel down the side of his face. He fights hard to suppress the chills that run down his spine when the entire room focuses on him, centers their attention on his still-kneeling frame. Who could’ve predicted that Impa would know who Ghirahim is? _What_ Ghirahim is? Link didn’t prepare himself for this, and now with everyone staring at him, intense glares burning a hole into his forehead, he doesn’t know if he’ll be able to explain himself.

“Link?” Zelda’s tone is cautious, worried. “Link, you don’t look well.”

“He looks guilty,” Ghirahim interjects, slowly gathering himself and standing tall, towering over every one else. He’s the largest entity in the room, and Link can’t help but to feel intimidated by him all over again.

“Stand down, demon. Don’t make a move that you’ll regret,” Impa commands, raising a small hand, pointing an accusative finger directly at Ghirahim. Zelda shoots him a glare, mouth agape.

“I don’t regret anything I do.” Despite his remark, Ghirahim heeds the warning and doesn’t move.

“Ghirahim?” Zelda mutters with concern. “ _Demon?”_

She also finds herself pointing at him, and he hides his grin. His lips still form a cocky smirk, however, and it leaves the atmosphere of the room still so… unsettling. Hands on his hip, Ghirahim slowly turns on his heel, facing the always-so-quiet Link.

“Master? Shall you give her highness the explanation she is owed, or can my order to silence be lifted?” he asks, head tilted to the side like a curious puppy. He’s taunting Link, clearly out for revenge. Link of course has no words to offer, not by mouth or by hand. He feels like his heart is going to beat out of his ears with how loud his pulse is. 

“Link, what is going on? What is this talk of Ghirahim being… being a _demon_?” Zelda has her arms crossed over her chest, awaiting an explanation. “What do you know that you’re not telling us?”

All eyes are on him, even Fi’s, as the room anticipates an answer. Zelda looks angry. Link’s never seen her get beyond frustrated. And Ghirahim looks so… _satisfied_ , as though he’d been awaiting this moment since Link gave him his order. Zelda was never to know that he was harboring a demon. He hardly wanted to know himself. That was why he had sworn the spirits to silence. Who knew that his plan would backfire? 

“I…” it’s the first word that Link has said since they entered the building. It feels like an eternity ago that he was happily chatting with Zelda, gossiping over who Paya had a crush on. And now the princess is glaring daggers at his kneeling form, expecting proper clarification on this heavy subject. So much so that she’s even tapping her foot, growing impatient. Link knows there’s no way out of this, but there’s also no way he can explain himself in his current state. Link hangs his head low in shame, quietly muttering, “Ghirahim, you’re released from your orders…” 

Ghirahim’s teeth make an appearance again.

“Your highness—”

“No,” Zelda raises a palm to Ghirahim, stunning him to silence. “I’d very much like to hear this from Link,” she spits, furious. “I’d like to know why he’d force you to not disclose this very important information.”

Link can’t bring himself to look up at Zelda. Ghirahim blinks a couple times, mouth slightly agape, still processing that the princess effectively shut him up by the wave of her hand.

“You find out that you’ve been associating yourself with a demon and yet you ignore such a threat in favor of disciplining the boy? I could have your head if I’d like,” Ghirahim nearly hisses, and Impa has both hands at the ready, still swift even in her old age.

Even swifter is Link, who’s on his feet in a matter of seconds. “He won’t hurt you!” He finds his voice in his moment of panic. “He… he can’t hurt you. I swear he can’t,” Link turns his attention to Ghirahim, who is shocked by the outburst. “Why are you doing this? Why are you threatening her?”

Ghirahim removes his hands from his hips, pressing a palm to his chest as he chuckles. “Just poking a bit of fun out of this dreadfully ironic situation. Is that not allowed, _Master_?” he asks with mirth. Link glares at him, not at all finding the same humor. “He’s right, though, princess. As bearer of the triforce of wisdom, I cannot harm you, for you are my Master. The Sheikah, on the other hand,” he turns his attention towards Impa, who still holds her hands up in defense, a spell at the ready for when she inevitably needs it. “Well, she doesn’t have much time left anyway.”

“Ghirahim!” Link shouts, the loudest he’s been since he got here. 

“Fret not, Master! I’m merely joking! I would never execute a human,” he snickers, “at least not without your command.”

“ _Ghirahim…”_ Link warns through gritted teeth. All the while, Zelda is standing there firmly, glaring at the pair. Fi simply floats in the background, not offering any words. The situation doesn’t involve her, to Zelda’s knowledge, and she therefore is just a bystander amongst the drama.

“Link, you’d better explain yourself this instance. I don’t understand what would compel you to hide this from me,” Zelda demands, and Link finds himself stepping back on his heel, offensive position effectively dismantled by the princess’ stern tone. He cups his hands together, nervous as Zelda impatiently awaits a proper answer.

“I… I had the best intentions in mind when I ordered them to keep this a secret,” Link tries to explain, tries to defend himself. “It was a shock to me when I found out. But then I learned his story… everything he went through…” Link casts a glance at Impa, whose face is stony and serious. He almost cringes at the look she’s delivering, clearly unsatisfied so far. “He’s not the _ancient evil_ that you know. He’s changed! By his own will! He’s _reformed_. If… if you would just hear the story he told me, you’d know not to fear him. Even to trust him.”

“ _Trust_ him? A demon? Link, I can hardly trust you right now,” Zelda hisses, and Link’s heart sinks. “If he’s truly reformed, then why wouldn’t you tell me straight away what he is? More importantly, why would you order him to hide his identity from me? How did you think I would react?”

“Like… like this!” Link stretches out both hands towards her. “You just said that you don’t trust him! And I knew you wouldn’t. But I wanted you to see him for what he’s worth. You’ve seen how he fights. You know so much about him already, how much of an asset he could be to our mission. You practically adored him the moment you met him! I didn’t want the knowledge of his background to be any hindrance to the plan,” Link pours his heart out for the demon that had just been giving him a hard time. “I didn’t want you to make me get rid of him, either. He’s _my_ sword.”

Silence soon floods the room, nothing but the quiet sound of birds chirping outside to break the tension. Zelda’s face is unreadable, and Link no longer holds himself in shame, instead ready to fight if need be. By any means he will defend his right to his swords. He’s only known them for so long, but they’re _his_ swords.. _His_ companions. He’ll be damned if the princess makes him return them, abandon them, or destroy them. He doesn’t even know if they’re capable of being destroyed. Regardless, Link is ready to defy the princess.

Zelda sighs, pinching the bridge of her nose. “Link…” is all she says, unable to dive further at this very moment. 

“If I may interject, your highness,” Ghirahim does so without waiting for permission, “I am true to my word why I say that I have no intent to harm. I’ve changed significantly in the past few millennia, and I can assure you that nobody in this room is in any danger. It was your first incarnation that set me on this path, and it would be disrespectful to her Grace to stray away,” Ghirahim takes Zelda’s hand within his own and kneels before her. She forces herself to not shy away, to not flinch at the contact, especially since he seems so sincere. “I am comfortable sharing my story, the same story I told Master Link, with both you and Lady Impa. If you’ll hear it, I will explain to you how the great demon lord became an even greater companion to the mortal form of the goddess and her knight.”

Zelda doesn’t pull her hand from Ghirahim’s gentle grasp. She glances to the side at Impa, who is still defensively holding her hands up at the sight of their contact. Almost as if Impa had predicted what Zelda was going to ask, the elderly woman gives her an affirmative nod. Zelda spares no glance towards Link, too disappointed in him to bother. Instead, she focuses her attention on Ghirahim’s dark grey eyes, and nods. “Please,” she answers, and Ghirahim gives her a genuine smile.

Within fifteen minutes of telling the story, Zelda is sitting on the ground beside the demon, listening intently. Within a half hour, Impa’s hands are back in her lap, no longer anticipating any kind of attack. Within an hour, Link is seated in the opposite corner of the room, far away from any other being, punishing himself by means of isolation. The story is exactly as Link remembers it, having heard it not too long ago. Ghirahim must explain this a lot, probably to every incarnation he meets, because he doesn’t miss a beat, doesn’t falter, and puts every ounce of emotion into his reflective narrative that he can muster. Zelda is all ears as she listens, inhales the information in awe as Ghirahim recalls his transformation from his dark, demonic duties to his path of rectitude. Zelda has chills by the end of the story as Ghirahim recalls the death of her first incarnation, and how he vowed to devote his life to doing right by her word. She is why he is here today, why he sits here confidently sharing his tale, and why he can smile as Zelda playfully punches his arm, grinning at him.

“Why on earth were you _trying_ to intimidate us earlier? What good was that for you? Impa almost took you out.”

“I’d like to see her try,” Ghirahim grins back, side-eyeing the Sheikah woman who hardly looks awake.

“Careful what you wish for, demon.”

“Feisty,” Ghirahim practically purrs, “I’d love to spar with a mortal who harbors so much experience. Maybe I could learn a thing or two about magic from such a seasoned Sheikah warrior. Of course, you probably could learn more from _me_.” Impa doesn’t entertain Ghirahim with a response, instead turning her attention to Zelda, who sits cross-legged on the ground next to Ghirahim, still reeling from the story she just heard.

“Princess,” Impa says aloud, “I can see on your face that the demon has swayed you in his favor. I would not put any faith in him to protect you. In fact, I urge you to abandon him, for no good could come from you and Link harboring a demon.”

Zelda’s smile fades, and Link’s attention is effectively caught. It’s just as he feared, which is why he wanted Ghirahim’s identity to remain a secret.

“Impa, with all due respect, I think you’re overreacting. He’s fought all incarnations of Demise alongside past princesses and knights. He’s as much of a hero as they are,” Zelda tries to argue.

“Be wary of his silver tongue. Demons know their way around a lie,” Impa warns, and Ghirahim’s long, winding tongue slips out past white lips, curling upwards tauntingly at the tip. Impa hardly blinks at the display. Link finds himself cringing, remember how Ghirahim used his tongue to clean his sword. 

“If I may, Mistress,” Fi shocks the entire room by breaking her silence. Zelda looks towards her, nodding curiously as the spirits floats towards the center of the room, facing Impa. “Everything that Ghirahim has recounted has been true. I’ve fought alongside him since his journey to righteousness had begun. I’ve detected no lies in his recollection of past events.”

“Thank you, dearest Fi,” Ghirahim presses a hand to his chest, wicked smile on his face, “but I have no intentions of convincing my worth to the Sheikah. Her highness’ belief in me is all that matters.”

“Sorry Impa,” Zelda offers a kind smile. “Especially after what Fi said, I truly do believe him. I mean, how can you not?”

“Be wary, princess.” Impa warns again with trepidation.

“Is this you giving me permission to travel with the demon?” Zelda grins even wider as Impa sighs.

“Be wary,” she repeats herself a third time, sternly, waving her off. “If you’ll excuse me, I’ve grown tired from today’s events. I must rest.”

Zelda stands up, Ghirahim doing the same beside her. The two of them bow their heads respectively to the elder, Zelda clearing her throat. “Very well. Thank you for seeing us, Impa. We will check in with you before we leave Kakariko.” Zelda lifts her head, smiling at her oldest friend, who doesn’t return the gesture, clearly worried for her wellbeing. Zelda isn’t worried, however. In fact, she feels the safest she’s ever felt with two sword spirits and a highly-skilled knight traveling alongside her. No harm shall befall her in their care.

Zelda turns on her heel, facing Ghirahim and Fi, hands clasped together delightfully.

“We’re going back out in public. It’s best that you return to your swords,” she suggests, and both spirits nod to her simultaneously.

“Yes, Mistress.”

“Of course, your highness.”

In their usual fashion, Ghirahim snaps and Fi flickers away, leaving only mortals in the room. Zelda contentedly sighs, satisfied by the outcome of their trip until she sees Link sitting in the corner. Her smile fades, and a grim look crosses her face. “Link, let’s go,” she commands, cheer in her tone long gone. Link looks up at her, head held low like a puppy who’s been kicked. Without saying a word, he gets up and stands behind her, knowing better than to side with her at this very moment. Zelda says nothing else as she exits through the door, Link following pitifully behind.


	16. Practice Makes Perfect

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Link learns some sword-fighting techniques from the spirits

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I don't know anything about sword-fighting. I used to kickbox, so I just took the posture and technique notes from that and applied it to sword-fighting. Probably inaccurate but it's all I got!

Zelda had other business in Kakariko besides seeing Impa, and none of it seemed to involve Link.

She’d dismissed him shortly after they left Impa’s home, hardly paying any attention to the always-so-shy Paya on her way out. She’d informed Link that she would be renting some beds in the local inn for the night, and then set off to talk to some of the residents of the village. Apparently she had some diplomatic duties to attend to that involved speaking with certain individuals, and she didn’t need Link’s help to perform any of these tasks. Her only requests for him were to retrieve the horses and set them up somewhere outside of the inn, and to _stay out of trouble_.

She used to tell him that affectionately, jokingly. He had a habit of finding some nonsense to get into, like exploring too much and stumbling into a camp of moblins or starting a field on fire. Things that would surely disappoint her but she would later dismiss, because he’d be okay; everything would be okay. But the seriousness to her tone told him that there would be consequences should he fail to keep to himself. 

He’s never seen Zelda angry before. He’s never _made_ Zelda angry before. At least not in this day and age. She’d gotten salty with him a hundred years ago when he’d simply performed his knightly duty of following her at the king’s request, but she wasn’t truly mad at him, more so enraged by her father’s overprotectiveness. But today, what he had done, had truly caused a fury within her. He should’ve known keeping a secret from her would upset her. Especially a secret as big as harboring a demon. But she’d reacted exactly how he thought she would react! Surely his decision was justifiable? If only Impa weren’t able to detect a demonic presence amongst them. Link could’ve gradually told her, presenting it cautiously as to not provoke a disturbing reaction. Or, he could’ve kept it a secret… and kept Ghirahim mad at him as well.

Ghirahim was nothing but a thorn in Link’s side when it came to his presentation. He was absolutely thrilled to be able to dig into Link, make him hurt for what he’d done. Ghirahim may have turned over a new leaf a lifetime ago, but deep down he still has the villainous tendency to make those who wronged him suffer. So Link thinks, anyway. Because now, Ghirahim and Zelda seem like best friends despite everything, leaving poor Link out in the cold. This is his punishment, he supposes, for trying to stop the inevitable. For trying to hide the demon’s identity. Link should’ve known this would happen. The demon certainly is prideful, especially of his title. _Demon Lord Ghirahim._ How could Link think this was a good idea?

Link sighs as he watches Zelda walk off briskly, nose turned up as she makes her way towards the first of her duties. Link nearly drags his feet down the path towards the village entrance so he could retrieve the horses. It’s early afternoon. The sun is shining in the cloudless sky, and there’s still so much time left in the day to do absolutely nothing. Link’s not used to having nothing to do. He’s either performing his tasks, killing monsters, or simply traveling. So to have only one task, he doesn’t know what to do with himself. 

When he reaches Sweetheart and Patches, he’s firstly thankful that no prankster or thief tried to untie their unattended horses and release them. He’s then calmed down by the sight of his horse’s ears shooting forward, excited to see him. At least someone is. He hugs Patches’ muzzle, petting the side of his face a few times before untying him and Zelda’s stallion, leading them into the village by their reigns. He makes his way to the inn, eyeing the poles that he can tie the horses to. Once settled, Link makes quick work to find them something to eat, knowing that there were an abundance of apple trees around the village for him to pick from. He wishes he had money to buy some carrots for the two horses, but he dares not ask Zelda for any more money.

Once he’s found an apple tree, he climbs as he can to knock as many apples down as possible. A total of twelve apples fall from the tree, all in varying sizes. Surely plenty to sate the horses. He’d once been told by a stable hand that horses need to eat frequently or they can get sick. They’re basically a walking, unstable digestive tract on toothpick legs. Link loves them despite their flaws. There’s not a lot of animals that he doesn’t love, actually. Gathering up the apples, he carries his haul to the horses, and hand feeds them one at a time until all of the apples are gone.

_Well… now what?_ Link wonders as he stands between the horses and pets them, lazily glancing around the bustling village. There’s not much to do around here besides spend money, which he doesn’t have. He could play whatever game the children were concocting in the center of town. Children seemed to love Link, maybe because he himself is like an overgrown child. But truthfully, given his sour, defeated mood, he really isn’t up for socializing.

Link’s gaze drifts upwards along the cliffside, and that’s why he remembers the great fairy that resides amongst the mountains. More importantly, he remembers the quiet, empty field that lies just beyond the great fairy’s domain. Perfect. He can easily “stay out of trouble” if he’s by himself. He’s visited this field before. It’s peaceful, serene, and most importantly, deserted. Patting the horses on their sides, he says goodbye to his furry friends and makes his way towards the cliffside, and eventually to the field.  
~  
Blades cut through the air as Link swings them strategically, slicing side to side, diagonally, and thrusting forward. It’s the first time he’s wielded both blades. He figured since he’s the only one out here, nobody it present to judge his poor technique.

Link didn’t think using his non-dominant hand to fight would be as difficult as it is. He finds that he lacks the strength and finesse in his left arm that is clearly superior in his right. He’s fighting nothing right now, nothing but a phantom foe to project his frustration upon. He’d made a couple of slices into a few trees, marking them up with vertical cuts. But he finds that moving around, dodging and swiping at an imaginary enemy gives him a little more freedom to utilize both blades.

He swipes low, cutting some of the tall grass around his knees, and jabs forward with his left arm, the arm that wields Fi’s blade. From his crouched position, he’s able to build up some tension, then release it, springing backwards and doing a flip. He lands firmly on his feet, skidding back in the dirt an inch before he twists around and slices both blades downward diagonally. His backflips always impressed onlookers. He’ll admit, when he fights monsters in front of people, he’ll throw in an extra backflip or two without necessity. Despite not really liking too much praise and attention, he does glow in the “oohs” and “ahhs” that he gets when people watch him fight. Besides, he’s really, _really_ good at backflips.

Link wipes the sweat from his forehead. He’d been at this for a half hour now, battling the air, trying to nail blade techniques that he’d picked up from his time as a knight. Nothing compares to fighting a real opponent, a real entity. He glances down at the blades, eyeing the blue and red diamonds adorning the flared base of each sword. “Fi? Would you come out please?” he asks, holding his left out forward so his companion could exit.

In mere seconds, Fi emerges from her blade in a flash of blinding light, something that Link has quickly gotten used to. When he opens his eyes, he sees her bowing in her usual fashion. “How may I be of service, Master?”

Link smiles sheepishly, just happy to see someone who’s not angry at him. He’s not even sure Fi is capable of being angry. “I have kind of a weird request,” he starts, shrugging, “but, do you think you could spar with me? I’d like to get a hang of using dual weapons,” Link asks as Fi floats gracefully in front of him, lifting her head up from her bow.

“Certainly, Master,” Fi complies, summoning half a dozen knives that hover above her head. Link takes a step back, blue eyes widened.

“Whoa, you’re… prepared,” Link chuckles nervously, holding both blades up defensively. “Are you just going to throw knives at me?”

Fi nods. “I would like to teach you to defend yourself from projectiles. I detect an eighty-nine percent probability that you will find this task difficult,” she says sincerely, and Link can’t help but to flinch. She’s not… wrong. He does have a hard time dodging arrows, rocks, even bokoblins, when moblins run out of things to throw at him. He’ll never forget the time a bokoblin was chucked at him at impressive speeds. He’s grateful to this day that he had enough instinct to _get the hell out of the way_. “I will intentionally miss vital organs, but there’s a sixty-six percent chance that you will be unable to deflect every knife, and that you will receive cuts along your extremities.”

“Nothing a few potions can’t handle,” Link gives a lopsided grin, pushing his left foot forward, arranging his stance for the onslaught of knives. “Ready when you are, Fi.”

“Of course, Master.” Fi doesn’t hesitate to send a knife sailing through the air. Link, not as prepared as he thought he was, grits his teeth when he feels a slice in his upper arm. “You did not deflect the knife, Master.”

“No kidding,” Link can’t help but to laugh, looking at the shallow cut in his skin. At least it isn’t too deep, just a graze in the skin, enough for blood to bubble to the surface. “I like that you’re sending one at a time, though. I think I’m ready for the next one.” 

This time, Link is true to his word as he holds his left sword at a diagonal, stopping the knife’s assault effectively. The minute sharp edge meets sharp edge, the knife dematerializes out of existence, and Link’s focus is on the next projectile. This time, he slices back at the knife, knocking it out of his line of sight. The following knife is dealt with similarly, Link trying to use his left arm as much as possible.

Fi summons six more knives, and two of them graze his skin as he misses. He grits his teeth from the sting in his skin, but he pushes through, swords swinging all over the place as he tries to stop the barrage of knives one by one. Six more knives appear in a similar fashion, and Fi sends them in a single file towards her opponent, gradually picking up the frequency in which she delivers them. After about ten minutes of the same routine exercise, Link asks Fi to start sending two at a time, thinking he can handle it since he hadn’t been hit in a while. His streak ends when he’s only able to deflect one knife, the second cutting through his pants and alongside his thigh. He’ll have to get his pants mended at some point now, thanks to Fi. But he can’t complain. He asked for this.

Fi keeps up her assault, aiming double knives at various, random points on Link’s body, trying to get him to utilize his full weapon range. Sometimes the knives fly in the same direction, one by one, and Link is able to block the attack by holding up both blades perpendicularly. Sometimes Fi aims one knife at his shoulder and one at his opposite thigh, and Link has to quickly swing his blades in their destined directions, lest he gets hit. So far he’s been cut about seven times. Not bad, all things considered. Fi is careful about not hurting him, so when she does hit him, the cuts are very shallow. Little to no chance for him to bleed out or get an infection, especially if he takes a healing potion sooner rather than later. All in all, Link thinks he’s doing a good job, and he’s ready to progress to three blades.

“Sloppy.”

Link startles when Ghirahim’s voice emanates in his ear. “What the—when did you—?” Link can’t finish his question as he turns on his heel, facing the demon who’d been hovering over his shoulder. He didn’t even hear the chime of Ghirahim exiting his sword. How long had he been standing there?

“Your technique is simply atrocious,” Ghirahim looms over Link, despite the young Hylian taking a step back. The ever-present grin on the demon’s face is unsettling, as usual. “A good swordsman would’ve parried every projectile thrown his way. A decent swordsman would’ve at least dodged them. But you’ve managed to get yourself all sliced up,” he finally straightens himself up, no longer leaning into Link. “I think this constitutes as _getting yourself into trouble._ ”

Link furrows his brows. “Sh-shut up,” his cheeks flush red when he stammers. _Damn it._ “What are you doing out of your sword anyway? I didn’t ask you to come out.” Link faces Fi again, raising both swords in preparation to defend himself again.

“Where do I begin?” Ghirahim starts to pace in a circle around Link, blocking his view of Fi. Link lowers his weapons slightly, but not completely. “You never directly ordered me to stay in my sword, leaving me to believe that I can exit any time I so desired. There’s nobody out here to frighten with my dazzling presence. And you invited Fi to join you, and not me. It’s fair that I may experience some jealousy, is it not?” he continues his predatory pace, hands behind his back as he circles ominously, keeping Link on edge. “And besides, I simply couldn’t bear to subject myself to this torture any longer. It’s almost as if you’ve never wielded a sword before.”

Link’s breath hitches when Ghirahim stops behind him, chest pressed against his back as he looms over him. The demon is a good foot and a half taller than him, and is impressive height is admittedly… intimidating. Uncomfortable. Even more so when Ghirahim begins to _touch_ him. Link freezes when he feels Ghirahim gently tap his elbows, forcing him to raise his arms back up. He then places large, firm hands on Link’s shoulders, shifting them until he’s satisfied with his particular position.

“Your form is dreadfully disorganized. I don’t know how you were able to hit the knives that you hit with this awful stance. If Fi weren’t avoiding the trunk of your body, something important surely would’ve been pierced. Shift your left foot forward. Yes, that’s it. Now your right foot should be on an angle facing outwards. You’re right-handed, so all the force is going to come from your back foot, which should be on your dominant side,” Ghirahim guides him, physically manipulating him like putty into the right position. Link finds himself standing similarly to how he’d been before, but this time in a more convoluted manner. He feels the strain of his muscles from being forced into this supposedly-proper posture. 

“How is this practical for battle? I’m not going to be able to get myself into the perfect stance every time I’m in danger. I have to work with the environment I have,” Link shrugs Ghirahim’s hands off of him. The demon moves his hands behind his back and leans forward over Link’s shoulder.

“True, Master. You’re not wrong. But the more you practice with the proper footing, the more naturally it will come to you in combat.” Ghirahim stands up straight and takes a few steps to the side. “Fi, all six please.”

“Whoa, wait!” Link stops the assault from even starting, panic rising when he sees Fi turn the knives in his direction, prepared to send them flying. “I can barely handle two!”

“You’ll be fine. I attacked your first incarnation with a dozen at once and he made it out unscathed,” Ghirahim brushes his concern off as if it meant nothing. “Fi? As you were.”

Link doesn’t have time to protest before six knives are sent sailing through the air, one by one deflected by his blades as he holds them up in defense. He doesn’t even realize that all six had been effectively dematerialized upon impact until he’s watching six more appear above Fi’s head, ready to go. Whoa. Maybe Ghirahim knows a thing or two about fighting stances. _Well, he is a sword spirit after all…_ Link thinks to himself as he looks down at his swords, and then to Ghirahim, lips parted in amazement.

Ghirahim smirks. “Excellent. You’re ready to spar with me.”

“What?”

Two long, black sabers blink themselves into existence with a snap of the demon’s fingers. Link flinches again at the sight of them up close, realizing how much bigger they are in comparison to his own blades. “I have no doubt you that you can parry projectiles now that I’ve shown you the correct stance. You can play with Fi some more at a later date. It’s my turn to teach you.”

Link’s not entirely sure he’s ready for this. First of all, those sabers are enormous. Sure, he’s fought moblins wielding claymores, and those are pretty big swords. But moblins aren’t quite the skilled living embodiments of an actual _weapon_ like Ghirahim is. That brings him to his second concern. Fi’s precision with her chosen weapon was a cause for worry, even though she pierced nothing important. Ghirahim is a sword who wields swords. He’s been a sword who wields swords for longer than Link can imagine. Now Link isn’t concerned that he’s going to get hurt—he kindly reminds himself of the spirits’ intentions to do no harm. He’s more worried about embarrassing himself with his lackluster skills against the sword who wields swords.

“I… I think I’ve had enough training for the day,” Link wipes the sweat from his brow. He’d been at this for at least forty-five minutes, which is a decent amount of time to train in his book. 

“Nonsense, you’ve only just begun,” Ghirahim runs a gloved finger down the edge one of his blades. “Besides, I think you owe me for the little situation you caused with myself and the princess.”

Link cringes at that. Oof. It would appear that Ghirahim is still upset, despite his cheery attitude. “No, really, Ghirahim. I’m a little tired. I think it’s time I turn back into the village.”

“If you truly don’t want to spar with me, then just say the word and I’ll return to my sword, Master,” Ghirahim places a hand on his chest and gives a shallow bow. “I’m at your _command_ , after all.”

Now Ghirahim is clearly messing with him, if he hadn’t already been doing so. It’s as if he knows that Link refuses to dole out orders since the earlier incident. A sigh escapes his mouth as he relents, trying not to look at the devious smirk on the demon’s painted lips. “Fine.”

“Excellent!” Ghirahim knocks a blade against one of Link’s. “Get yourself into your fighting stance. You’re so pitifully uneducated in the art of sword-fighting, I simply cannot wait to teach you.” He startles Link into the muscle-straining position that he’d been in to deflect Fi’s knives. Ghirahim mirrors his posture, admittedly more impressive-looking than how Link feels. The demon chuckles, giddy with excitement. “Let’s see what you already know.”

In the blink of an eye, he charges at Link.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I don't work with horses anymore, but in my professional experience (I'm a vet tech), I can attest to the fact that horses are, indeed, unstable digestive tracts on toothpick legs.


	17. Misunderstanding

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Ghirahim runs Link through some sword drills. Link and Zelda have a brief talk.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Sorry this is so delayed. I work a lot and I had a hard time finding the motivation to write. I'm hoping I can get the next chapter up soon.

Link acts on instinct when sabers come flying his way. He feels his body involuntarily sinking low and shifting to the side, avoiding the bite of the blades. He skids in the dirt and turns quickly to see Ghirahim sticking his landing a few paces behind him, having just narrowly missed Link by a thread.

_Whoa!_ Link doesn’t have a chance to breathe before Ghirahim is charging towards him again swiftly. This time Link isn’t quick enough to dodge, and he finds himself tripping and falling onto his rear. He closes his eyes and grits hit teeth on impact, and when he opens his eyes, a sharp gasp is drawn from his lips at the sight of two blades pointed at his forehead.

“Terrible,” Ghirahim tsks, shaking his head as he withdraws his blades, giving Link room to breathe. The young knight grips the hilts of his own swords tightly, still shellshocked by the attack. “If I had any intention to kill, you’d be dead where you sit.”

“G-Give me a minute, okay!?” Link yells, exacerbated. His outburst abruptly ends with the tip of a saber in his face once again.

“Absolutely not,” Ghirahim cocks his head to the side. “You suppose a foe is going to _give you a minute_ when you’re unprepared? Your evasiveness is noteworthy, but you really need to work on your defense,” he lowers his blade, removing it from Link’s vicinity. Snapping his fingers, one saber disappears, and Ghirahim extends his hand towards his Master. Link hesitates, but eventually takes Ghirahim’s hand and allows himself to be helped back to his feet. “Clearly you’re not ready to spar with me. A shame, really. I was looking forward to defeating a formidable opponent—” Link scowls, and if Ghirahim notices, then he simply doesn’t care. “We will run through some basic drills instead to build up your dexterity. And perhaps one day, I’ll allow you to land a hit on me.”

Link yanks his hand away with a pout, detesting the contact with the smug demon. “I defeated you in a past lifetime. Who’s to say I can’t do it again?” he rolls his shoulders back, sore from his earlier drills with Fi, who is still floating silently among them across the field. Her knives had long since disappeared when Ghirahim had declared that it was his turn to fight Link. Now she is just their audience, but Link likes to think she’s also looking out for his safety.

“Oh Master, one of these days we’ll talk about the many times I let the sky child walk away with his life,” Ghirahim grins, raising a finger and crooking it, beckoning Link towards him. “Now, swords up. The left parallel to your form and the right at your transverse plane.” Link has no idea what any of those words mean, so he shifts the swords around slowly until Ghirahim looks satisfied.

When the training commences, Link knows he’s in for a rough time. Ghirahim is not known to be lenient, especially when it comes to his craft. He runs Link through basic exercises, starting with stretches and ending with movements in the proper form. He eventually puts Link through drills where the young Hylian is forced to contend with the demon, charging him via moves that he’d learned as a knight, as well as lesser known ones that he’d just picked up in their scrimmage. They’re at this for what feels like _hours_ , Link running through the same movements and drills over and over again until Ghirahim tells him to move on to the next. He can’t tell if the demon is pleased with his progress, or bored with his stagnancy. He feels like he’s not really learning anything new, just straining his muscles over sword techniques that he already knows. Not once had Ghirahim tried to retaliate or move on the offense, instead allowing his single blade to take the beating from Link’s barrage of attacks. In all this time, Link hadn’t been able to get close to Ghirahim with the edge of his blade, either evenly matched or simply overpowered. Link’s not surprised, but he is a little disheartened. He’s a knight! He’s been a knight for _years_ , not counting the century he was asleep. Surely he has enough skill at hand to pierce the demon just once?

The sun is starting to go down, and Link is sweating and sore. Ghirahim hasn’t moved from his spot, and Fi still floats on the sidelines, watching intently and not saying a word. Clearly she’s not concerned for his wellbeing at the moment, content that Ghirahim wouldn’t hurt him. No, Link’s pain is caused from overextending his muscles in the same motions repeatedly. He’s tired, and discouraged, and just wants this to stop. But Ghirahim keeps barking orders at him, forcing him to go through the motions over and over again.

Until Link has finally had enough.

Dropping to his knees, Link pants from exhaustion. He fights hard to not loosen the grip on his swords, but he sweaty palms make it difficult. A shadow looms over him, and white boots come into view as Ghirahim steps forward into his space. “We’re not done.”

“Yes we are,” Link huffs, nods his head, keeping his vision focused on the ground. He doesn’t see Ghirahim roll his eyes.

“We’ve hardly begun,” the demon taps Link’s knee with the tip of his boot, urging him to get up. When Link groans and doesn’t move, Ghirahim crosses his arms over his chest and taps his foot impatiently. “You mortals are pitiful.”

“Sorry for not being an immortal… whatever you are… oh Hylia I’m going to pass out,” Link wipes the sweat from his forehead. He finally brings himself to look up at Ghirahim, who looks utterly disappointed.

“Spirit. Entity. Demon Lord. Whichever you prefer,” Ghirahim snaps his saber away, realizing his Master is probably going to refuse to run through the drills any longer. It’s still no excuse for him to be wallowing in the dirt. “Get up.”

“No, I’m dying,” Link huffs, startling when Fi is suddenly in front of him, floating beside Ghirahim. He looks up and meets her analytic gaze, confused and a little uncomfortable.

“I detect that your heart rate and respiratory rate are elevated, but all vitals remain within normal limits. You’re not dying, Master.” Fi deduces after a mere moment, and all Link can do is pout. For once, Fi is not so helpful to his cause. The two spirits crowd around him, and Link thinks about fake-fainting to get out of more training. Of course, Fi would see through his lie. And Ghirahim just might kick him. No, there’s only one way to get the pressure off of him, but Link isn’t so sure he’s willing to do it.

“Please,” he opts to go another route, “I’ll indulge you another time, I swear. But I can’t take it anymore. Please, can we call it quits for today?” Link’s literally begging on his knees, just hoping that Ghirahim can truly appreciate how exhausted he is.

The demon taps his foot impatiently, staring Link down. Link is seconds away from groveling until he sees Ghirahim relent. Rolling his eyes and letting out a sigh, Ghirahim vanishes his saber with a snap of his fingers. “Fine. But you owe me a decent fight, Master. After what we worked through today, you’re bound to have learned something.”

“Oh thank Hylia,” Link grins sheepishly, feeling relief wash over him, devouring his aches and pains. He almost wants to fall back into the grass and sleep here, but he knows Zelda would worry herself sick over him not coming back to the inn. 

Zelda. She hasn’t crossed his mind in hours. He’d been so focused on his match with Fi and lessons with Ghirahim that he hadn’t thought about what he’s going to say the princess the next time he sees her. Surely she’s still angry with him. She left that impression on him when she abandoned him in the village. Maybe she’s had some time to think it over, realize that Link was just looking out for her? Unfortunately, he has a feeling that she just doesn’t see it that way. Link has never hid anything from her before. The bond they’ve built as princess and knight, bearers of courage and wisdom, and dear friends has been smoldered by the secret that Link had forced the spirits to keep. What if Zelda doesn’t trust him anymore? That’s certainly a fear that Link has in this moment.

“Master? Are you okay?” Fi’s voice interrupts his thoughts, and that’s when he realizes he’d just been kneeling in the dirt, staring off. Still sore, Link finds his footing underneath him and stands, hoping that the gesture alone answers Fi’s question. 

“I think it’s time to turn back,” Link announces, holding the swords up. Neither spirit argue with him, or question his motive, instead diligently retreating back into their swords. The Sheikah might know a thing or two about sword spirits, so of all villages, Kakariko would be the one to let the spirits out in. But with how Impa reacted to Ghirahim… would other villagers have the same fear of him? Would they just see him as the demon he is? It’s too risky to find out. Link chooses to keep the spirits concealed, knowing that they both understand.

As soon as the swords feel warm and heavy in his hands, he scabbards them on his back, and makes his way to the village, the smell of campfires and the sight of glowing lights leading him to his destination.  
~  
It’s dark when Link makes it past the fairy fountain and back into the lantern-lit village. He can feel a sense of peace in the air upon stepping foot in the settlement, the cool breeze from the mountains whistling along with the soft music that is playing in the distance. Link may love his little home in Hateno, but the feeling if serenity he gets when he’s in Kakariko is indescribable. It’s why he didn’t think twice when Zelda asked him to join her on her excursion.

Link makes his way through the village and towards the inn. On the way he waves to a few people, accepts a free bundle of carrots from a kind older woman, and cracks a few jokes with a group of children who’d been following him since he made his way down the cliffside. Children _adore_ Link; they always have. Any excuse he has to share his awful jokes with them, he takes. But eventually even he runs out of things to say to the kids and needs to excuse himself to feed the horses. 

Making sure both stallions are well-fed and taken care of, Link pats them both on the rumps and promises them that he’ll find some good treats in the morning before he makes his way up the steps to the inn. His stomach starts to twist in a knot when he realizes he’ll have to face Zelda again, if of course she’s willing to speak to him. He has a feeling that he’ll receive the silent treatment once more, and at this point he’s not sure if it’s a good or a bad thing for the time being.

The innkeeper directs him towards his reserved bed, pointing out the staircase and bidding him a good night. Link thanks him and retreats towards the stairs. As he ascends, Zelda’s short, blonde hair comes into view. She’s seated on one of the beds, facing away from him, writing in what appears to be her journal. Link had found a few journals of hers in her old study when they were salvaging her belongings from the castle. She had been grateful at the time, and since then she carries at least one of her journals with her everywhere she goes. This trip is no different, Link sees, as he watches her meticulously jot down her thoughts. In the bed next to hers lies a bundle of regular arrows, and an even smaller bundle of fire arrows. It then occurs to Link that he never replenished his arrow supply. Were these… for him?

Link’s too nervous to ask. This happens to be the bed that the innkeeper pointed out to him, so he imagines that the arrows are his too. But he doesn’t want to assume. Before he could even consider asking, Zelda turns around, probably sensing someone staring in her direction. She lowers her quill when she catches sight of the young knight. “Hello Link,” she says, sans her usual enthusiasm. She looks tired, Link notes as he lifts his hand and gives a tentative wave.

_Are those for me?_ he signs, and then points to the arrows while he has Zelda’s attention. The princess nods.

“I noticed that your quiver was nearly empty. I figured purchasing some arrows was a safer alternative to stealing them from a bokoblin camp,” she mumbles, green gaze looking in Link’s direction, but not quite at him. Link doesn’t know what to say initially as he rubs the back of his head.

_Thanks. You’re right about that._ Link finds his lips curling into a half-smile, but it disappears immediately when Zelda looks away, focusing back on her journal. She sits cross-legged in her bed, journal perched in her lap as she taps the paper with the end of her quill, clearly wanting to write, but unable to translate her thoughts onto paper. Link sighs.

“Zelda,” he says softly, and Zelda looks up again, a little surprised that Link is speaking. “I get why you’re mad—”

“Do you?” Zelda is quick to reply, and Link clenches his fists to his chest, unsure what to do with his hands now that he’s vocalizing. Zelda looks just about as angry as he expected her to look. Or more so disappointed… discouraged. 

“I… I think so?” he says timidly, taking a step forward. He makes his way slowly towards the part of the room that’s lit by Zelda’s oil lantern, as to not be concealed in the dark any longer. “I withheld important information from you… but you have to understand, I thought it was in your best interest.”

“My best interest?” she sets her quill and journal down again roughly, turning her body three-fourths of the way towards Link. The young knight stops in his tracks, standing beside his bed and moving no further. “You’re full of it, Link. You weren’t looking out for my safety, or my feelings. You were afraid that I was going to make you get rid of your new toys.” Setting aside her belongings, Zelda gets up so that she’s eye level with Link. “I don’t know what’s worse, that either you think of me as some weak little girl that needs protection, or that I’m a controlling tyrant who craves the submission of my subjects. Have I not been fair to you, Link? Have I been anything less than a friend?” she steps towards Link, who does everything in his power to not move backwards. “I thought that of all people, I’d be the one person you could confide in. So what if you’re carrying around a demon—”

“Shhh…!” Link looks around the room, noting that besides the two of them, it’s empty. But the lower level definitely has people staying the night, and the innkeeper is visible from the staircase! Who knows how many people had heard her?

“Oh it’s fine, if Impa’s not worried, then nobody else should be.”

“Impa is definitely worried,” Link objects, but it doesn’t stop Zelda from resuming.

“ _As I was saying,_ so what? You could’ve just told me from the beginning. I’m more understanding than you think I am! We’re _friends_ , Link. Never mind that I am the princess. You and I both went through something together that bonded us. _I_ went through something that has aged me by a century. I am not the meek young girl that needed protection a hundred years ago. I can stand for myself, and I have been since you left. What you thought you were doing, in my best interest, has caused more harm than good. You should’ve just told me, Link. You should’ve just told me so I could tell you that I’m not worried.”

Link looks up at Zelda, noticing the tears of frustration, tears of _betrayal_ in her green eyes. He swallows. “You’re not?” he asks, watching as Zelda sniffles and wipes away a tear.

“No, I’m not. You’re clearly bonded to your swords. And you trust them. Both of them. If you’d have told me what Ghirahim is right away, and let him explain his story like he did at Impa’s, I would not have been worried. I trust your discretion, Link. You saved Hyrule, after all. I trust that you wouldn’t put anybody’s lives in jeopardy over something like this. You should’ve told me right away, Link. You shouldn’t have kept it at secret,” Zelda balls her hands up into fists. “You shouldn’t have commanded the spirits to keep it a secret, either.”

Link drops his head, looking at his muddy shoes and the floor. “You’re right. I shouldn’t have,” he mumbles, barely audible. Zelda sniffles again.

“Do you understand why I’m upset now, Link? Do you understand what your secret has done?”

Link truly didn’t realize how much he’d hurt her. No, of course he doesn’t think Zelda is a little girl that needs to be protected. She held back Calamity Ganon for a hundred years, and produced the blinding light of her awakened sealing magic to end its reign once a for all. And of course he doesn’t think she’s a controlling tyrant. She never abused her power over her subjects, not once. He should’ve known his decision would cause more harm than good, among more than just himself and Zelda. No wonder Ghirahim had been running him through endless drills. It was all probably a part of his personal revenge. 

Link finally looks up, matching Zelda’s gaze. She no longer has tears in her eyes, instead looking angered. Hurt. Link takes a deep breath and nods. “I understand. It was a mistake. One that I regret. I hope you can find it in yourself to forgive me for it. I never meant for that decision to cause any harm to anyone.” 

Zelda relaxes her hands, bringing them to her chest as she stares at Link. “I’d love to forgive you, Link. But I can’t shake off the feeling that you think I’m weak.” She sits back down on the bed, and Link can’t help but to sit across from her on his own bed, avoiding sitting on the bundle of arrows.

“You’re not weak, Zelda. I’ve never thought that for a second,” Link says as the princess avoids his gaze. “I understand if you need some time to think things over. But please know that I’m sorry for giving you that impression.”

Zelda sits there, staring at the floor, absorbing what Link had said. She nods a few times, shifting to the side so she could gather her things a pull back the covers. “Thank you, Link. I appreciate your kind words more than you know. I think I need to go to bed, though. I feel very tired from the day’s events.”

“Of course. I’m not far behind you.” Link says, rubbing the back of his head. “Will we talk more in the morning?”

“If you’d like,” Zelda answers, taking off her boots and setting them on the floor beside her bed. She reaches to extinguish the oil lantern before tucking herself into bed. “Good night, Link.”

“Okay. Good night,” Link responds with a dash of hope in his tone. He’d expected this conversation to not go as well tonight, or not happen at all, for that matter. He likes to think he and Zelda are on good terms with each other despite what happened, especially since she seems open to conversation tomorrow morning. 

If that’s the case, then why does Link still feels so bad?


	18. Sword-fighting

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Link and Zelda head out to Hateno, with a little surprise along the way

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Sorry for the delay. I was dealing with writer's block on top of having to work full-time. I'm hoping a longer chapter will make up for it. And I'm hoping to work on the next chapter soon. Thanks for your patience, and of course thanks for reading!

Link wakes up to an empty bed next to him, and a folded note on the pillow. 

It’s mid-morning, he deduces, judging by the sounds of people milling around the inn, going about their day, getting ready to leave on their very own adventures. He must’ve been really tired from all the training last night if he slept through all of the noises around him. The sun gleams through the window, shining on his face, letting him know just about what time it is. 

When Link sits up, he’s greeted by stiff muscles and sore scratches. He looks down and sees his tattered clothes, sliced cleanly by Fi’s knives. He’d forgotten entirely about his appearance, how Fi’s training had cut up his clothes along the sides of his body and left behind superficial nicks in his skin. He’d also forgotten to take a potion. It’s a wonder Zelda didn’t mention any of this to him last night, probably too upset to want to engage the subject. Fishing a small vial out of his pocket, Link knocks back a healing potion, and immediately feels some of the pain alleviate.

Standing up, Link stretches his arms over his head, trying to work out some of the kinks that the potion missed. He then swipes the note from Zelda’s abandoned pillow, unfolding it carefully.

_Link,  
I didn’t want to wake you up; you seemed exhausted from the day’s events. The horses have been fed and attended to. Please come find me at Impa’s home so that we may depart to Hateno.  
-Zelda._

She may still be angry, but she cares for Link, he gathers from the tone of the note. A small smile graces his lips. He really doesn’t want to see Impa again, but at least his trip with Zelda to Hateno Village is still on. She just needs some time to think things over, Link figures, and this whole dreadful misunderstanding will be a thing of the past.

Link stretches one more time and then moves to gather the swords from the edge of the bed, having slept with them guarded to his chest like precious gems. The spirits have confirmed countless times that they obey only the command of the triforce bearers, but Link doesn’t want to know what would happen if they were to be stolen and fall into the wrong hands. They’d probably be used as ordinary swords, without the blessing of the spirits to guide attacks. Or, they’d make great decorations. Link likes to think that Ghirahim would enjoy being admired for his intrinsic beauty. That’s the impression the demon gives, anyway.

Hauling the swords onto his back, Link treks down the stairs and out the door, waving to the innkeeper as he exits. It’s a sunny day, barely a cloud in the sky. Link shields his eyes with his hand as he makes his way down the path towards the horses. He knows that Zelda had taken care of them, but he still feels he should greet the stallions. Gently patting them on their rumps as he passes, he calls to them that he’ll come back soon, and then continues towards Impa’s home.

He feels a little uneasy as he makes his way up the steps, remembering the incident from yesterday too clearly. Impa has always been helpful to him, guiding him through the early part of his mission and sparking forgotten memories. He’s never once seen her disappointed, and he’d never thought that such an emotion would be directed at him. She wants Link to abandon the swords. Well, Ghirahim at the least. But what would he do with Ghirahim’s blade if the thought ever dared cross his mind? Falling into the wrong hands is still a very real fear of his, one that he doesn’t want to face. Would he leave Ghirahim here in Kakariko? To be monitored, imprisoned, _destroyed_? Is that even possible? What would Impa have done to prevent a demon from merely existing, trying to serve his sole purpose? Perhaps that’s what Zelda could be talking to Impa about.

As Link makes his way up the steps, he sees Paya in her usual spot, this time just standing beside the door, as though she were guarding it. He sees her cheeks redden as he approaches, nothing abnormal for Paya, but she doesn’t falter from her position. “I’m sorry, Link. The princess is having a private meeting with grandmother,” she says without stutter.

Link lifts a finger, excusing himself for a moment as he fishes out the crumpled note Zelda left him from his pocket. He smooths it out, then presents it for her to read. Paya scans the note for a moment before looking… not quite _into_ Link’s eyes, but close. Link really wishes Zelda weren’t mad at him. They both get a kick out of teasing each other over who Paya has a crush on. 

Biting her lip, Paya looks from him to the door and back, clearly unsure what to do. “I… I suppose you could go in, i-if the princess is expecting you.” Paya steps aside, clasping her hands together in front of her and nodding her head. Link offers a small smile, which only causes Paya to blush harder. Link reaches for the handle and opens the door, shuffling himself inside.

It’s silent in the small room, and Link’s eyes haven’t quite adjusted to the dim light yet. He blinks a few times until his vision is restored, and sees Zelda and Impa both staring at him. Link is quick to drop to a knee, bowing his head towards Impa, hoping that his brief lack of clarity wasn’t a sign of disrespect. “Enough of that, you can stand,” Impa waves him off. Link glances up from his bow, finding himself staring back and forth from the two ladies before he stands, holding his hands behind his back.

“Nice of you to join us, sleepyhead,” Zelda greets, a smirk on her lips that Link almost misses. The discontent from yesterday seems to have vanished as quickly as it came, and Link is stunned into his usual silence. “Impa and I were just talking about you.”

“Oh? Uh…” Link doesn’t know what to say, surprised with himself that he could muster any noise at all. 

“Yes, well, more so about your _companions_ ,” Impa clarifies.

Zelda nods, her previous smirk turning into a full-blown smile, “right, of course. And we were discussing the importance of the spirits, their intended purpose and such. And Impa agrees that they could absolutely be useful assets towards our mission,” she says cheerily, clasping her hands together.

Link blinks a few times, looking towards the elderly woman. “You… you do?” he asks. She seemed so against it just yesterday. What changed?

“Yes, I do,” Impa answers, nodding. “So long as you keep that demon on a tight leash.”

“What she means—” Zelda is quick to elaborate, “is that we need to do what we’ve basically already been doing. Keeping them out of view of the public eye. We don’t want to alarm anyone with their presence, their appearance. So they only come out when we need them. Nothing that we’re not used to,” she says matter-of-factly. Link nods slowly, looking from Zelda back to Impa, who he expects to offer more bitter words. But the Sheikah says nothing.

“What… changed your mind?” Link asks quietly. Surely it was something Zelda had said, but Link is curious as to what.

“Oh my mind is hardly changed. I’m still not happy with what you have on your back. And I’m definitely not happy with him following the princess around,” Impa hisses, and Link finds himself flinching back, as though her words were projectiles. “Zelda begged of me to see through the eyes of the demon, to reflect on his story. She told me that she nearly stole him from you this morning so she could present him once again to plead his case. I’m certainly glad that she didn’t. I don’t care for the demon or his tongue… in any sense. But Zelda trusts him; she trusts you. And I trust her.” Impa settles herself, kneeling comfortably on her pillows. Zelda is beaming, simply delighted by Impa’s version of “approval”. Link almost mirrors her smile, almost. To know that Impa is still disappointed weighs on him, but seeing Zelda so excited is helping to alleviate the discomfort. 

“And there’s more!” Zelda says, approaching him. “Impa agrees that it’s time I learned to defend myself. With a weapon. I can handle a bow, but I’d like to know how to wield a sword. Link, if you’ll teach me, I’d like to learn how to swordfight.”

“Really?” Link looks up at Zelda as she stands within inches of him. She nods eagerly, fists balled tightly.

“Yes! I’d really love to learn how to handle myself with a proper sword. And I think that utilizing one of the spirit-possessed swords would make us quite a duo. Please, Link, please will you let me use one of your swords to learn how to swordfight? I’d be honored if you’d teach me,” Zelda nearly begs, holding her hands together in front of her chest as her pleading green eyes stare directly at Link.

The young knight can’t really argue, not that he wants to. He thinks it’s an excellent idea. He wouldn’t so much be wielding dual swords anymore, not that he was any good at it. But to fight alongside Zelda against monsters with enchanted weapons? What could go wrong? “I… of course. I’d be more than happy to teach you,” Link startles when Zelda squeals, absolutely elated. He finally smiles a genuine smile, amused by Zelda’s childlike delight. He has to admit, it’s pretty adorable. “So, who would you like to wield?” he asks, knowing the answer. Of course it’s going to be Fi. She’s gentle, calculating, astute, just like Zelda.

Without missing a beat, Zelda disproves him. “Ghirahim.”

“Princess,” Impa is quick to interject, “I must advise against this. I tasked Link with keeping the demon in line. You shouldn’t have to deal with him at all,” she warns.

“Uh… I’m going to have to agree with Impa. Ghirahim is a little… much,” Link doesn’t know how to expound upon his point. Ghirahim is very critical of his sword-fighting technique, and he’s a _knight_. The demon will absolutely break Zelda’s spirit. “Why not Fi? She’s fantastic.”

“She truly is wonderful, isn’t she?” Zelda swoons, remembering the brief conversations she’s had with the blue spirit. “But I’d like to wield Ghirahim. We simply have a _connection_. I felt it when we first met, and again when he told me his story. He’s devoted to me. I think it’s only appropriate that I learn to fight with him. Don’t you agree?”

“No.” Both Impa and Link say at the same time, forcing a pout on the princess’ face. 

“What are you worried about? That I can’t handle his sarcasm? His quips? I doubt he’d even express anything of the such in battle, unless it’s towards an enemy. So what is the concern?”

“He’s a demon,” Impa reminds her, and she only waves the Sheikah off.

“A reformed demon. This has been established,” Zelda corrects. 

Link sighs, rubbing the back of his head. “Look,” he starts, “he’s not going to let me train you. I’m going to be honest with you. _He_ will want to train you. I was out late last night because he had me running drills for hours. He didn’t go easy on me, and he won’t go easy on you. That’s why you should choose Fi. She won’t interfere with me training you, and if she does, her drills are more manageable.”

Zelda eyes him up and down for a moment, inspecting him, making his visibly uncomfortable before asking, “is that what happened to your clothes? You were running drills? He cut you?” she asks, crossing her arms over her chest.

Link can’t lie, can’t keep it a secret. Not again. “No… _he_ didn’t. These were, uh… from… Fi,” he says quietly.

Zelda smirks. “I want to wield Ghirahim,” she says with finality. “And if he chooses to teach me as well, then so be it.”

“But—”

“I think it’ll be good for me. To have some discipline. To be a student again. Oh I can’t wait! When can we start?” Zelda interrupts, completely ignoring Link’s protest. Impa has long given up on trying to dissuade her, instead glaring daggers at Link, who can feel himself starting to sweat.

“Keep the demon under control, Link.”

Link swallows hard, finding himself nodding, unable to say anything to the elder. He looks back towards Zelda, who awaits his response eagerly. 

“As… as soon as you’d like…?” Link feels all the air getting squeezed from his chest as Zelda pulls him into a tight hug. What’s all this about? Zelda was fuming yesterday, nearly in tears with how angry she was at him. And now here she is, begging for his guidance and hugging him in appreciation. What changed? Did she only need time to recover? Or was she truly moved by Link’s apology last night? Whatever it is, it seems like Link is forgiven, and he has a brand new task to worry about.

Sure, he has no problem with teaching Zelda how to master a sword. In fact, he finds the idea exciting. He’s never been a teacher before, always a student. It’s going to be really interesting having someone following his instruction. He hopes he can deliver proper lessons, and that Zelda truly learns something from him. More importantly, he hopes that Ghirahim stays out of it. What he had said earlier, about Ghirahim taking over the lessons, that hadn’t just been a warning to hopefully persuade Zelda to choose Fi instead. It’s a genuine concern. Ghirahim might tear her apart. He was strict with Link last night, and honestly unforgiving. Link hopes Zelda has to discipline to put up with the demon and his drills.

“Oh Link, thank you so much! I’m so excited!” Zelda releases him from her hug, turning on her heal to face Impa. “I promise, you have nothing to worry about.”

“I would hope.” Impa doesn’t look at Zelda, instead glaring daggers at Link, who tries to avoid her piercing gaze. 

A few more moments are spent in Impa’s home as Zelda goes over her plans to travel to Hateno to visit Purah and fix the Sheikah slate. Goodbyes are said, and hugs between two dear friends are exchanged before Zelda and Link make their way back out in the village to their horses. They calculated that it would take them another day and a half to reach Hateno, so it’s best they get a meal in them before they set out towards their next village.

Zelda talks a lot over breakfast, prattling on about how enthralling it’s going to be for Link to be her teacher. Link is more than relieved that the storm has passed and Zelda seems to be in better spirits with him, and he desperately wants to ask why. But he doesn’t want to run the risk of her anger resurfacing, so he dares not ask. Instead, he enjoys her musings over sword-fighting, and how useful she’s going to make herself when she masters some techniques.

Link almost snorts when she says such a thing. _Masters_. It took him years to master his chosen weapon. Sword-fighting is an art. He likes to think that he’s fully skilled in such an art, despite what Ghirahim had said to him about his technique. Link just hopes that if Ghirahim does try to get involved, he won’t be too harsh on Zelda. He doesn’t want her to quit learning just because Ghirahim is too strict with his instruction. Hopefully Ghirahim won’t try to butt in and take Link’s spotlight. Link has to admit, he’s pretty excited to be Zelda’s teacher. 

After breakfast, the two mount their horses and wave goodbye to citizens as they exit the village. They want to spare as much sunlight as possible for travel, knowing that they’re going to have to set up camp somewhere before they reach Hateno. Luckily the closer they get to Hateno and away from the mountains, the warmer and more comfortable the weather gets. Zelda admits she doesn’t really like to camp, but she’s excited to sleep under the stars just this once. Soon they won’t have to do so much traveling on foot, once the slate gets fixed.  
~  
The sun inches its way towards the horizon, a day of traveling coming to a close. Link has been on this road dozens of times, and he knows that they’re approaching a good spot to settle down for the night. An old bokoblin camp will be cresting around the corner any minute now. Link remembers when he first made his way to Hateno after waking up from his hundred-year slumber. He had no armor, nothing but old clothes that he had found in the shrine of resurrection, and weak weapons that he’d stolen from red bokoblins. He’d stumbled across this camp of bokoblins and moblins, walking directly into it without some much as a plan. They’d attacked, and he’d been wounded greatly. But by sheer will and adrenaline, he’d managed to take a couple bokoblins out with his rusty broadsword before making his escape. He has no problem fighting the pests now, but he never felt fear like anything else at the time. It rivaled the moment that he had stumbled upon rooted guardians on the Great Plateau when he’d been trying to access a shrine. He’ll never forget how terrified he was to see a laser pointed directly at his bare chest.

He’s certainly grateful that guardians are deactivated. He was truthfully more afraid of them than he was of Calamity Ganon. It was a guardian that almost took his life, after all. He was more prepared to handle the living embodiment of the apocalypse than he was a hoard of calculating robots. 

So lost in thought, Link almost misses the sounds of snorting off around the corner. He yanks hard on the reigns, forcing his horse to stop. Zelda, stunned, mirrors his action, stopping her horse as well. “Wha—”

“Shh!” Link interrupts, finger to his lips. Zelda silences herself, patting her alarmed horse on the side of the neck to calm him down. She watches as Link cautiously dismounts his horse, inching slowly around the corner of the rocky ledge that they were walking along. He peeks his head past the rock, and just as he suspects, they have a problem.

Raising his hands, he signs to Zelda, _bokoblin camp. Two blues, one black, one white. Two black moblins._

Zelda stifles a gasp, heart pounding now from the threat of danger. _Should we turn around?_

_No,_ Link answers, smirking. He’s wanted to do this all day, ever since Ghirahim started drilling him. _We’re going to get rid of them._ Link won’t make the same mistake twice. He’s glad he heard the telltale snort of a mindless bokoblin this time, instead of blindly stumbling into their camp. Backing up and away from the corner, he makes his way behind the horses, as to not startle them, and brandishes the swords in each hand.

“Ghirahim, Fi, we need you,” Link whispers, holding the vessels out for his companions to exit. It doesn’t take long for the spirits to join them. Zelda sits on her horse, turned towards the three, as always in awe of the spirits as they grace their presence.

Ghirahim gives his usual bow. “I assume we’re whispering for a reason?” he asks in a quiet tone, grin on his face, as though he already knows there’s monsters nearby. Link nods.

“Four bokoblins, two moblins. In the camp that we want to use for the night,” Link answers, huddled close to the two spirits. “The blues are going to be easy, I propose we take them out last, since the black and white bokoblins are going to come charging. Fi, I want you on the black one; it’s the closest and we need to prevent it from spooking the horses. I’ll take on the white one. Ghirahim, there’s two moblins hanging around the fire. Are you able to handle one of them?”

“Do you know who you’re talking to, child? I’ll have them both in the dirt long before you can land a hit on your target,” Ghirahim says eagerly, and Link should’ve known better.

“Right,” Link rolls his eyes, “anyway, Fi, I’ll probably still be fighting the white one when you kill yours. The blues are most likely going to be well on their way here. I need you to fire at will and keep them away from the horses.”

“Of course, Master,” Fi nods, summoning six knives above her head.

“What do you want me to do?”

Link doesn’t even realize that Zelda is off of her horse and in their huddle until she speaks up, crouched over between himself and Ghirahim with her hands on her knees. Ghirahim stifles a chuckle.

“All in due time, your highness,” he winks at her, and a pout forms on Zelda’s lips. Link scowls at the demon before quickly removing his bow and quiver, handing it over to the princess. Zelda takes the equipment in both hands, looking down at it before glancing up at Link, stunned.

“If you can get the high ground, take your shot at whoever you’d like. Stay out of their view. They’re fast,” Link warns, and Zelda is still gripping the bow and quiver, surprised that she’s allowed to be involved. She merely took a chance, wanting to see if they’d let her do something about their bokoblin problem. She didn’t expect Link to actually let her _fight_. She’s a little rusty with a bow, but she has skills that some archers dream of possessing. Zelda smiles and nods affirmatively as she straps the quiver around her shoulder. “Alright, let’s get our camp back. Ghirahim, if you’d like to do the honors…”

“With pleasure, Master,” Ghirahim bows once more before raising his hand and snapping his fingers. He disappears in flecks of diamonds, and suddenly surprised snorts are heard around the corner of the rocky ledge.

Link and Fi rush around the corner while Zelda takes the opportunity to start climbing the mound of boulders. Across the small field and around a campfire, Ghirahim had appeared in between the two black moblins, sabers bared and ready for bloodshed. Each moblin wields a large spiked club, both of them raising their weapons to the sky before striking down at their smaller opponent. Ghirahim disappears in a flash, and both moblins wind up hitting each other with their clubs, knocking each other over. Ghirahim then sparks back into existence behind one of the moblins, taking a stab directly into its back.

As it cries out in agony, the four bokoblins race over towards the scene, snorting and grunting and picking up clubs and rocks in order to fight. Link brings his fingers to his lips and whistles, gaining the attention of the black and white bokoblins. The white bokoblin has a weapon. This is going to be a bit of a challenge, Link thinks as he squares his shoulders and charges forward, trying to keep the fight away from the horses.

Fi flies high into the air, out of reach of any projectiles that the monsters might throw at her. She sends a knife sailing downwards, hitting the black bokoblin in the arm. The bokoblin drops the rock it hand been holding, gripping its injured arm with the other while it stands there, dumbfounded, looking for the source of the knife. Seconds later, Fi sends another, and then another, and two more raining downwards at the beast, hitting limbs and ears. It’s almost like she’s toying with her prey, purposely missing the head and the trunk in order to swiftly eliminate it.

Link watches the black bokoblin stop in its tracks for a moment and no less, knowing that he’s about to engage in a tough battle. He skids to a stop in the dirt crossing the swords over his head at the white bokoblin leaps upwards, boko-bat raised high, ready to assault the young Hylian. The second wood hits steel, Link waves his arms outward, slicing cleanly through the bat, breaking it in half. It doesn’t stop the white bokoblin from swinging, however, as he’s forced to raise a sword upwards to block heavy claws to the face. 

The monster grunts and squeals, not at all deterred from the fight. And neither is Link as he plants his feet firmly and swings his arms, slicing the bokoblin symmetrically along the shoulders. The beast screams in pain, backing away for a second to cradle its injuries. It’s blocking its trunk with its arms, but Link can still take advantage of this situation. He springs forward, one legs sticking out straight and the other anchoring him to the ground as he sweeps his leg around, knocking the white bokoblin off of its feet and into the dirt.

Out of the corner of his eye, Link sees the black bokoblin erupt in a poof of purple smoke. Fi is still floating out of reach in the sky, arms outstretched as she summons more knives. The two blue bokoblins are hurdling towards Ghirahim, who has one moblin nearly incapacitated as the other one circles him. Fi zooms over towards Ghirahim, gently gliding towards the ground to gain the attention of the blue bokoblins. The pair shift their focus from Ghirahim to Fi, one of them picking up rocks to assault her with while the other runs back and grabs a bow.

Despite being circled by an uninjured beast, Ghirahim doesn’t seem to be worried, merely going through the motions as if this is just another day. And it very well could be, for him at least. He was designed to fight, to maim, to kill. This is probably the most exciting thing that’s happened to him since the last time he’s gotten to destroy monsters. That’s why he’s dragging it out, taking his time, carefully slashing away at his prey, all while playing keep-away with the other. One more hit renders the injured moblin fully dead, just in time for him to dodge an incapacitating blow to the head from the other. He vanishes once again, and the dumb beast looks around, confused and furious, wondering where Ghirahim could’ve possibly gone to.

Link is startled from the show when he feels a grubby hand grip his ankle. The white bokoblin is on the ground, bleeding shoulders clearly still functional as it tries to claw its way up Link’s body. The young knight finds himself in a panic, slamming a blade downwards disconnecting the hand from his ankle. The bokoblin screams again, cradling the stump that was once its hand. It bleeds profusely, a few arteries sliced cleanly and spurting blood all over Link’s pants. Oh it would just be cruel to keep this pathetic creature alive any longer. Link has to admire its drive, however. With one useful arm, it tries to get back up and take another swipe at him. 

Link jumps back, nearly hit. He can’t afford to take any damage. White bokoblins are heavy-handed, and are known to kill in one hit. He has to be more careful. Link decides it’s time to put the beast out of its misery. With both swords gripped tightly, Link crouches low, building momentum before launching himself high in the air, weapons pointed downward. The bokoblin watches his ascent, unable to react quickly enough before two swords are plunged into its eyes, blinding it in seconds. The swords are driven even further as Link pushes towards the ground, and he feels the edges of the blades plow through bone. The bokoblin bursts into plumes of purple smoke instantly. Panting, Link looks at the bloody mess on the ground, relieved that it’s over, and energized from the amazing fight he just had.

The battle between Fi, Ghirahim, and the remaining beasts still ensues. While Link had been dealing with the white monster, the spirits had successfully gained one kill each, and are working on their second. Fi dodges arrows and rocks as she sends knives sailing with absolutely precision towards the blue bokoblins, hitting one square in the gut and causing it to double over in pain. The second one is not affected by the knife, too blinding by fury to even acknowledge the cuts. It continues to charge Fi every time she nears the ground, throwing rocks in her direction and missing every time. Another calculated knife throw has this bokoblin falling backwards, explosion of smoke signaling its demise.

Ghirahim is nearly finished with his beast, cackling with glee as it swings and misses repeatedly every time he disappears. Its furious, its attacks becoming more and more sloppy as it grows tired from exerting so much energy. Ghirahim is having way too much fun. He’s yet to land a single hit on the beast, instead choosing to tire it out. Cruel, Link muses, but that’s Ghirahim. If anything were to display the demonic side of him, it’s this. The moblin is driven nearly to its knees before Ghirahim appears directly behind it, arms cocked back, ready to attack. The beast cries out as Ghirahim stabs it in the back with both sabers, sending it forward onto its stomach. 

Extracting his weapons from the moblin’s back, Ghirahim walks along its prone body, standing on its shoulders. He holds a blade the back of the nearly-incapacitated monster’s neck, grinning wildly. “Well, this has been fun. But it’s about time I wrapped this up.” He doesn’t give the monster any time to register what he said before he slashes cleanly through the neck. As with its fellow monsters, it too vanishes in a cloud of smoke. Ghirahim rolls his neck, working out some kinks before he snaps his blades away. “I really needed that.”

“I’m sure you did, you pyscho,” Link points a blade in Ghirahim’s direction. The demon shrugs.

“I saw you drag out your fight, Master. Well done, by the way,” Ghirahim claps, “anyway, I saw what you did. You were having your own bit of fun.” Link’s nose is pinched in a scowl.

“No I wa—”

“Link, duck!”

Link doesn’t question where the alert came from. Instinct tells him to duck when he hears the command, and seconds later an arrow flies over his head, embedding itself in the tree behind him. He looks back at the arrow, before quickly turning towards the source. The last bokoblin, the blue one with the bow, staggers unsteadily to its feet, ready to launch another arrow. Before Fi could ready her knives and Ghirahim could summon his swords, a mystery arrow glides through the air, nailing the blue bokoblin directly in between the eyes. It falls backwards, and moments later, purple smoke is left in its wake.

Link glances around, trying to find the source of the arrow, of the voice who _sent_ the arrow. He finally pinpoints Zelda, who is standing on an outcrop of large boulders, waving at him with a smile on her face. In her other hand she holds Link’s bow, the very weapon she used to eliminate the last bokoblin. Link can’t help his own smile.

“Zel! That was awesome!” Link jumps, waving his swords in the air. Zelda grins, hand on her hip.

“Don’t act so surprised. You know I’m a good archer,” she says cockily, posture soon relaxing as she realizes how high above ground she is. “Now if you could, uh, help me get down from here, that’d be great.”

“Allow me, your highness,” Ghirahim calls out, vanishing instantly before reappearing next to her. He puts a hand on her shoulder, connecting them before he blinks them away in specks of orange and black diamonds. Moments later, they’re on the ground, standing in between Link and Fi, who close in on them slowly. Zelda holds her forehead in her palm, leaning on Ghirahim for support.

“Whoa, that made me dizzy,” she says, trying to keep stable before the world stops spinning. “That was really cool, though,” she smiles up towards Ghirahim, who smirks back.

“I know. It’s very impressive,” the demon gloats, and Link rolls his eyes. “What’s more impressive are your impeccable archery skills. To hit a beast right between the eyes from such a distance takes incredible precision. You certainly can handle your chosen weapon. I’m curious to see you brandish a sword.”

Zelda gasps, “you know that Link is going to train me to use a sword? Oh of course you do, you probably heard the entire conversation,” she waves her hand. 

“Every word. And he’s right about one thing,” Ghirahim eyes the young knight. “I _am_ going to run you through drills.”

“Ghirahim—” Link starts, fuming.

“Just wait, Master, I’m not finished,” Ghirahim smirks. “I’ll allow you to teach her highness without interruption. You can go through the motions, show her the basics, all of the fundamentals and such. I will not interrupt. But the drills are unavoidable. For _both_ of you.”

“It is in your best interest to practice your sword techniques with Ghirahim,” Fi floats next to her taller companion, and together they both tower over the Hylians like doting parents. “He is a master of all sword-fighting techniques. You will gain much knowledge from his guidance.”

“Well put, my friend,” Ghirahim nods towards Fi. “What do you say, my Masters?”

“Yes, of course!” Zelda doesn’t skip a beat, to no one’s surprise. Link, on the other hand, is hesitant to answer. He dwells a moment on what Fi had recommended. She doesn’t usually say much of anything unprompted, so for her to put in her two cents about the subject makes it a big deal, Link realizes. Maybe his technique is a little rusty, a little sloppy. It wouldn’t hurt to build up some strength and dexterity. As disgruntled as he is to agree, Link finds that he doesn’t have much of a choice. Heaving a deep sigh, Link finds himself nodding, and a wide grin adorns Ghirahim’s painted lips.

“Excellent. Get some rest. We’ll begin at dawn before we head out.”

**Author's Note:**

> Let me know what you think! You can also follow me on Tumblr @lamothla. I'll try to post more about my story and the characters if this gains any interest. Thanks for reading!


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